


these roads lead back to you

by dancingrat



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Minor Violence, Motorcycles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25083187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancingrat/pseuds/dancingrat
Summary: "I don't ride anymore," Renjun says. Jaemin feels a surge of vertigo, the overlapping images of past and present splitting apart. Renjun and his bike were one and the same once, just like it is still for Jaemin, Donghyuck, and Jeno. Losing the ride would be like losing a limb.It reminds Jaemin that things aren’t the same.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Na Jaemin
Comments: 31
Kudos: 148





	these roads lead back to you

**Author's Note:**

> if you're looking for romance or fluff or a particularly well thought-out plot, this ain't it ><
> 
> this is very...snapshotty? and not really thought out. dunno how to describe it but i just had little snapshots and an end scene i wanted to write and forced them to connect with each other haha
> 
> a couple brief mentions of violence + like one mention of blood? + a lot of the story revolves around a (fictional) drug but it's not really the important part

Jaemin races down the road. The thrill of the chase sings in his blood. Jaemin loves the moments like these, when the city lights race past so fast they're almost a blur, when cars honk as they pass and he hears the distant siren of police cars that will never get close to tailing them, let alone catching them. Someone screams as he accelerates toward the edge of the half-constructed highway bridge. He knows what it looks like from below, a gap too far to make even if he could fly, but jokes on them—he can fly. He pulls on the throttle and soars across the gap, landing on the other side without skidding.

His cuts off the target by pulling up in front of him, while Jeno and Donghyuck come in from behind. They would have caught him without Jaemin's stunt, but Jaemin isn't going to pass off a chance to show Jeno and Donghyuck up if he can and they know it. He's the best at stunts, not because he's the best rider necessarily but because the closer that a trick is to death, the less he can resist going through it. He wants to feel the fingers of death closing around him, tight as his own skin, before he whirls away out of its grasp once again.

Though if anyone asks, he will say he's the best rider. Jeno wouldn’t argue with him on that one, though technically Jeno is probably the best. He's never lost a target, but he's got a bit of that safety first kind of attitude, an unfortunate hand-me-down from Mark.

Donghyuck would argue, because he’s Donghyuck.

The target panics when Jaemin pulls up in front of him, and veers off into a side alley. It's just where they want him because it's a dead end. He must not know these roads as well as they do.

The target stops in front of the gray wall at the end of the alley. No other choice except crashing into brick, and he doesn't yet know that it might be preferable to become a smear of blood on the wall rather than get caught by them.

"Who you working for?" Donghyuck says.

"Like hell I would tell you," the target spits. His voice is boyish, young. Young as them, maybe. Maybe it'd help him if they didn't know better than anyone not to underestimate youth.

"Don't be like that. If you tell, we'll let you off easy," Jeno says. Jeno's decided to play good cop today. Jaemin sighs. He wanted that part. Jeno is better at the innocent act though. Whenever Jaemin does it, the saccharine tone of his voice verges on the edge of overdone. That's what Donghyuck says, anyway.

"I'd rather die," the target says.

Jaemin twirls the gun in his hand. "Dying will be the easy part for you," he says. He's not good cop or bad cop today. He's the voice of truth.

The target smiles back, and it twists his face with something odd, close to pity. "You’re the ones in the wrong. You don’t see the bigger picture. If only you knew…"

Jaemin peers at the boy. A probable member of a crime syndicate telling him he’s in the wrong? Now that’s something. He doesn't see a hint of dishonesty in the boy's face—the boy truly believes it. If the opinion of a petty drug smuggler mattered more to him, Jaemin would find it odd. As it is, there's no point in delaying anymore. He signals at Jeno to bring the target down. They'll question him back at headquarters.

The target pulls something out of his pocket. A glimpse of grey and silver under the cloth.

"Shit."

Jaemin shoots. Split-second reaction, no thought. The shot hits the target in the chest, and he tumbles off his bike, a manic wildness spread across his face. Much like fear, but more crazed than afraid. The grenade rolls out of his hand, still intact.

"He was going to blow himself up?" Jeno asks. His voice doesn't shake, but he's shaken.

Donghyuck leans down and picks up the grenade. "And take the rest of us with him, it looks like. Good shot, Jaemin."

"Thanks," Jaemin says. Adrenaline courses through him. One second too late and death would have gotten a permanent hold this time. Looks like he's one step ahead again. He wonders how many times he can stay ahead until he runs out of luck. "We lost another lead though."

Jeno curses and rubs a hand over his face. He should hit something, let off some steam, and Jaemin would offer himself if he wasn't afraid of the amount of damage Jeno can do. Jeno takes a deep breath, sets his jaw, and turns his attention to the body.

It's the third lead they've lost. The first was Jaemin's fault. He'd gone for risk rather than reward and followed the target without the other two. He’d lost the target in the grimy underbelly of the city, and by the time he found them again, they’d had a knife in the stomach.

The second was an accident. A truck careened out of nowhere, and smashed the target into the glass windows of a store across the street.

At least they thought it was an accident at the time. Three deaths are too many to be an accident.

Jeno pats down the body. There's not much, a gun and three packets of the green powder.

Donghyuck's eyes widen when he's sees them. "That's..."

That's the break they've needed.

Dragon dust. So far they've only caught the tail-end of rumors, whispers in bars and clubs, a couple more dead druggies than there's supposed to be found over the past weeks, or maybe months. The build up was too slow to catch their attention until recently.

There's something wrong with the way this drug has spread. With the number of rumors about it, it shouldn't have been hard to get a sample. Yet they couldn't find a trace of it. None of their informants, or the dealers they have their hooks into, know when it came to the market or how to get their hands on some. Unless they've been scared into keeping mum, but it takes a lot to scare the people they work with.

Jaemin was about to go to ground and visit a few of his usual haunts, when they got this lead.

Now three full samples have fallen into their hands. It's almost as good as having the target alive. It may not lead them to the head of the beast, but it's something to take back to headquarters, which is more than they've gotten for weeks.

Jeno lifts the packets from the body almost with reverence and pockets one of them. He hands one over to Jaemin, and one to Donghyuck. That's one of Jeno's safety precautions—split the goods, in case any of them don't make it back. It's highly unlikely that that will happen today, but Jeno is careful. That's why even if he didn’t have the title of best rider, he'd still be their best.

When they get back, they’ll send it down to the labs, and within weeks, or if they're lucky, days, they might get a composition on this new drug.

It might be fake, but Jaemin doesn't think the target would have killed himself for fake goods.

"It doesn't make sense," Jaemin says aloud. "Why would he kill himself?"

"He didn't just want to kill himself. He wanted to take us with him. He knew we were going to come after him," Donghyuck says. "If he hadn't been trying so hard to get away, I would've thought he was waiting for us." The target had led them on a wild chase through half the city. He tried to lose them in the maze of alleyways on the west side, but that's where Jaemin used to ride before he became a part of NCT. No one escapes him there.

"You think there's a mole?" Jaemin asks.

Jeno's mouth sets in a line, grim. "I hope not," he says.

Jaemin hears the "Hey" on their way back to headquarters. It comes so soft he doesn’t think he should have been able to hear it. It's a voice he knows like the back of his hand, like the lines on his palm, a voice he can trace no matter how long it's been since he last heard it.

He veers away from Jeno and Donghyuck.

"What the hell? Where are you going?" Donghyuck calls.

Jaemin raises a hand with three fingers up. A signal for I'll catch up later.

"You think this is the time for that?"

Out of his peripheral vision, Jaemin sees Jeno shake his head. "Just let him go," Jeno says. He has been around Jaemin the longest, and is used to his sudden shifts in mood, the times when he just needs to race down the streets alone. The times when he needs to feel the wind against his body, and the thrum of the engine with no one else around. "The grenade probably got to him."

Donghyuck shouts something after him, but Jaemin doesn't hear it as he speeds off in the other direction. He shifts up a gear, and goes faster, then jerks his bike to the left. It turns, tilts over the edge, and then he's falling down from the highway. He feels like he's flying again, wind rushing past him, before he hits the road below. The tires give a screech of protest.

_Sorry, baby_ , he thinks. _I'll make it up to you later_.

For now he's rounding back the fastest way he knows how, making it back to where he heard that voice. He races down far faster than he should, as usual, and almost passes by who he's looking for.

But he'd never miss that sharp gaze or that slender silhouette.

Jaemin pulls his bike to a stop. The tires screech again. He winces.

Renjun looks just like he remembers. Dark hair once bleached blonde but losing its color, dipped in purple at the tips. A piercing right under his eye, on the edge of his cheekbone. Renjun hadn't wanted the piercing at first, but Donghyuck had gotten one right above his eyebrow and told Renjun, "I knew you'd be too scared to get it done", and here they are. He's even wearing the same clothes Jaemin remembers seeing him in last, as if he purposely wants to torment Jaemin. A black jacket over a white shirt, and black jeans. It could be a different outfit because all of Renjun's clothes are that way, simple, clean, without much color, but in Jaemin's mind it overlays on top of the image in his memory, and he cares more that it feels too close for comfort rather than if it's an exact match.

Maybe it's that Renjun feels too close for comfort, even though they stand apart, meters of distance and months of time between them. Jaemin hasn't even gotten off his bike, hasn't even turned off the ignition. He leaves it running. It’s a message. He can leave whenever he wants to. He will leave, even if he doesn't want to.

"You don't have a bike," Jaemin says, because it's the first thing he notices. The all-black bike Renjun used to ride isn't with him. He doesn't have any vehicle with him at all. It's just him, flesh and bone, no metal.

Jaemin remembers teasing him about the bike. "It's small like you," he always used to say. The bike was also sleek, elegant, and had wicked top-speed, but Jaemin didn’t say that part.

"It's fast," Renjun would snap back. "And it bites, like me."

Jaemin found out that Renjun did bite, though that was much later.

"I don't ride anymore," Renjun says. Jaemin feels a surge of vertigo, the overlapping images of past and present splitting apart. Renjun and his bike were one and the same once, just like it is still for Jaemin, Donghyuck, and Jeno. Losing the ride would be like losing a limb. Or multiple limbs, or being confined to living the rest of his life in a wheelchair.

It reminds Jaemin that things aren’t the same.

Jaemin wonders where Renjun's old bike is now. If it's rotting away in a garage somewhere, he won't forgive Renjun for it.

"You left us," Jaemin says. He lets all his anger leak into his voice. He doesn't hide that he was hurt or that he blames Renjun for it, or that he hates him now, might hate him forever.

Renjun recoils. A look passes over his face like Jaemin's kicked him in the chest. The raw animal kind of wound.

The look goes after Renjun blinks, wiped clean, but Jaemin has seen it.

Savage pleasure surges in Jaemin. It pleases him that he can hurt Renjun still. He deserves it.

"Why are you back now? If you're here to beg us to take you back, you're out of luck. The team doesn’t need you."

It's a lie, but it makes Jaemin feel better to say it. Especially when he sees his hurt reflected again somewhere in the depths of Renjun's eyes, though Renjun still tries to hide it. He's so much the same. Still so easy to read.

"I know," Renjun says. "Who's the leader now?"

"Jeno. He's much better than you were."

Jaemin knows that's where it'll hurt the most. Renjun was never really the leader. He was a temporary stand-in after Mark was moved to a different division, and he tried to hold together the pieces Mark left behind, but there wasn't time or practice enough to keep it from crumbling at the edges. Renjun recoils again before he catches himself. Jaemin could laugh.

"I'm glad to hear that," Renjun says, when he speaks again. Jaemin doesn't feel so much like laughing after that.

He wants to tell Renjun how good of a leader Jeno is. Jeno didn’t want the role, but he’s taken to it like a fish to water. Jeno knows when to push them and when to rein them in. Jeno doesn’t argue with Donghyuck about minute details, or forget when he’s supposed to step in to make a decision, or hesitate to talk to their bosses when he has to. Jaemin wants to tell Renjun I would have followed you anyway, if you had stayed.

If you had stayed.

He doesn't.

The old bell tower tolls the end of the hour.

Ding dong.

"I don't have much time," Renjun says.

"You don't ride anymore. What could you have but time?"

Renjun doesn't answer him.

Ding dong.

"What you're looking into now is bigger than you know," Renjun says finally.

That shakes Jaemin from his anger, but only for a second. It pools again, hot and red enough to blur his vision. "You've been looking into us?"

"You should talk to Mark. It could help with that." Renjun points at Jaemin's pocket, where he has stowed the dragon dust.

Jaemin doesn't question how Renjun knows, only knows that he shouldn't know. Jaemin suddenly feels like something is wrong. With this conversation, with this place.

He revs the engine and speeds down the street, away from Renjun. He doesn't look back.

It came as a note tacked on the side of their refrigerator. Jeno saw it first because he wakes up early every day to go to the gym.

Jaemin should have known first. He should have felt the empty space by his side in the mattresses where the four of them sleep.

_I can't do this anymore. Don't look for me. I'm sorry - RJ_

They thought it was a joke at first, though that kind of joke was more Donghyuck's style than Renjun's. None of his stuff was gone, except his bike, some clothes, some cash.

When days passed and there was no more chance of it being a joke, they looked for him anyway.

Days passed and they stopped looking.

Maybe Jaemin hadn't really stopped back then. Maybe each time a small, black bike turned the corner, maybe each time someone with purple tipped hair passed by, he'd turned back.

Jaemin had always thought if he saw Renjun again he'd beat some sense into him and drag him back against his will. It hurts a little to realize that when the time came, he couldn't.

Jaemin throws down his helmet on the couch. Jeno eyes him with distaste. "You know I put a rack up for our helmets, right next to the door," he says.

Jaemin sticks out his tongue and flops down on the couch. He puts the helmet over his face, blocking out the light.

"I saw Renjun," Jaemin says.

He doesn't need to hear the clatter of Donghyuck's chopsticks falling to know that they've both frozen.

"What do you mean you saw Renjun?" Donghyuck asks.

"I thought I saw him when we were heading back. That's why I turned where I did."

"And you didn't tell us?"

How could Jaemin tell them that he saw the ghost of Renjun every now and again, passing by on the street or flying down the road? How could he tell them that seeing the real thing was worse?

"I wasn't sure. It was a long shot."

"And I bet you thought I'd scare him off, didn't you?" Donghyuck says.

"You would scare him off. Try to, at least. I don't think you could actually scare him off," Jeno says, ever the reasonable one.

"I can be scary when I want to," Donghyuck says, voice dangerous. "Don't get on my bad side, Jeno Lee."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Even the filtered light through the helmet feels too bright. It makes Jaemin's head spin. He closes his eyes.

"I talked to him," Jaemin says.

"So where is he? Did you beat the shit out of him like he deserves?" Donghyuck asks.

"I don't know where he is now," Jaemin says.

"You didn't bring him back with you?" Jeno asks. "Jaemin, I would have thought—”

Donghyuck snarls. "I wouldn't take a deserter back even if he begs for it—"

"I'm just as mad as you are, but we don't know what's going on with him—"

"He doesn't ride anymore, okay?" Jaemin bursts out. "He doesn't ride, he doesn't have a bike, and there's no point in dragging him back because he's not going to ride."

Both Jeno and Donghyuck go silent. Their shock vibrates against him, a reflection of his own.

"He doesn't have a bike," Jeno says, slow, dragging out the words like he is trying to puzzle out the truth in them.

"That’s not all. He knows about dragon dust. He said this is bigger than we know. He said to talk to Mark." Jaemin lets it all out.

It tips the scales, and silence tilts over into a flood of words. Donghyuck and Jeno argue about whether to listen to the tip. "We can't trust a traitor" and "We have nothing to lose" and "Like Mark could know anything, come on". It's a meaningless debate, meant to soothe themselves and soothe each other by letting it out. Because they don't have the luxury of ignoring a tip, no matter where it comes from. And because once upon a time they trusted Renjun, once upon a time he was part of their team.

Jaemin lets them talk around him.

He keeps his eyes closed.

Jeno comes to Jaemin later that night.

"Was it really him?" he asks.

Jeno sounds calm, but his hand is tight against the doorjamb.

"Yes."

Donghyuck has already gone to bed, and Jaemin thought Jeno would turn in too. Jaemin couldn't sleep, so he crawled out of bed to clean his bike. It doesn't need extra cleaning, but the motion is repetitive enough to empty his mind.

Jeno leans against the doorjamb. "I don't get it. Why now? Why—" Jeno chokes off.

Jaemin understands. Why remind them of his existence when they've just about moved on from it, when they're finally beginning to come together as a team again?

"Do you think he's a traitor, too?" Jeno asks.

"I don't know. He's a deserter." It should be the same thing to them. Jeno knows that.

Jaemin stands up and goes over to Jeno. He wraps one arm around Jeno, not sure if he's doing it for Jeno or for himself. He runs his other hand through Jeno's hair. Jeno's hair is still damp from the shower.

"You shouldn't sleep with wet hair," Jaemin chides.

Jeno leans against him. That's rare nowadays. He makes a muffled choking sound, half a laugh but not quite able to get there. "I'm the leader. I should be scolding you, not the other way around, damn it."

"Too bad for you, leader. Someone needs to tell you off so you don't get too big of an ego."

"I don't think there's much chance of that with you and Donghyuck around."

Jaemin keeps running his hand through Jeno's hair as they talk. Jeno leans against him for a while.

Jaemin goes back to when the cracks started to form, when Mark was moved to another division.

The four of them had been together as peers for too long at that point, so that they meshed well when it came to covering each other’s backs but not when it came to listening to each other. Their habits of trying to one-up each other, and of only listening to each other when convenient were fine when Mark was around. The four of them would act like they couldn't hear Mark, and complain about his leadership to his face, but they did listen to him.

The same couldn't be said of Renjun, when he was made to take Mark's place.

Even Jaemin said, teasing, singsong voice, "I don't get why they'd choose you."

Renjun had run his hands through his hair, making it stick up in the back, then let his head fall against the dining room table. "It's because I'm the oldest, and the world hates me."

No, that's not right.

The cracks started before then.

It was when they were going after a big drug bust, not as big as dragon dust, but the biggest the Dream division had taken on at the time. The pressure was high, they couldn't afford mistakes, and Renjun got faked out by a body double of the person he was slated to tail. They arrived at the site after most of the big faces had come and gone, and were only able to bag up the leftovers that NCT had already marked out in the files. Worse, the deal had gone through right under their noses.

It was weeks of work down the drain. It took months of working overtime to throw out the net again, and they had to bring in the 127 division for part of it.

That was probably how 127 took an interest in Mark in the first place.

No, that's not right either.

Maybe Jaemin needs to go back further still.

He goes back to when Renjun joined the team, the last addition to their team of five. Back to when Mark came in with Renjun and announced with his poster-boy smile—the one he uses for official occasions, the fake one—"We've got a new addition to the team. Make sure he feels welcome, everyone."

They hadn't needed a fifth, and everyone except Mark made sure that was known. They scowled at Renjun, and made no move to introduce themselves until Mark laughed awkwardly, and said, "Maybe we can start with names?"

They all said their names, went around the circle like kids in a kindergarten classroom, and dispersed. No one showed Renjun where he could put his stuff, or what room he should stay in. There were only two rooms, Mark's tiny closet sized room and Donghyuck, Jaemin, and Jeno's room where the three of them slept together on two mattresses pulled together side by side. There wasn't enough space in Mark's room for anyone else, so that was out of the question, and none of them were about to invite Renjun to their room.

Renjun didn't scowl back at them, but he didn't look happy to be there. He slept on the couch.

It got worse when they got him on a bike, and did a test joyride around the city. He was decent, and probably would have been passable in another division, but he wasn't up to the Dream standard. Could get there with some practice, maybe, but none of them were in the mood to entertain the thought.

Jaemin caught Mark talking to Taeyong at the end of the day. "It's not going to work. He doesn't fit with the team."

"He's a hard worker," Taeyong said.

"We're all hard workers. That's not good enough."

"The decision's been made. I can't change that. I'm sorry."

"There's nothing you can do?"

"It's not just your team that's affected by this, Mark. You know we need more riders. Everyone with any riding experience is getting pulled into a riding division. You got one of the better ones."

"So that's it then? Dream isn't just any other team. We're the best division besides 127, and the best in our age group. What happens if he brings down the team?"

"It's your job to make sure that doesn't happen, Mark."

When Mark returned, he smiled his poster-boy smile, patted Renjun on the shoulder, bumped knuckles with the rest of them, and drew up a regimen for Renjun that was little better than hell on earth. With complete seriousness, and complete lack of the usual Mark-level empathy, he said, "Skip a day, and you're dead."

Renjun slept on the couch. Donghyuck figured out that he was transferred from forensics, not even close to a real rider, and they didn't let him forget it.

Deciding to talk to Mark is one thing. Finding a time in his busy schedule that overlaps with their free time is another.

Donghyuck is still against the idea.

"Let's just call him," he says. "We don't have to see him in person."

Jeno shakes his head. Their phones are monitored by NCT and after their close call with the last target, he doesn't want to take any risks.

Jaemin decides to call Mark anyway to set up a time when they can meet in person. He's still got the number on speed dial, though he hasn't called Mark in months. Mark picks up at the second ring.

"Jaemin! Long time no talk. What's up?" Mark says. It's good to hear him. Jaemin has missed his voice.

"We want to meet up sometime," Jaemin says.

"Huh? So suddenly?"

Donghyuck pushes Jaemin over, scoots in, and picks up the phone. He shouts, "When are you free, loser?"

"You're on speaker, by the way," Jaemin says.

"So I noticed."

"Answer the question," Donghyuck says.

"Good to hear you too, Donghyuck," Mark says dryly. "I'd love to hang sometime, but I'm stuck in the hospital for now, so maybe after that?"

Donghyuck drops Jaemin's phone. It clatters on the table, and it’s new phone, less than a month old. "Seriously?" Jaemin says. It’d better not be cracked.

"What was that? And yeah, I'm serious? Why wouldn't I be?" Mark sounds so adorably confused that Jaemin doesn't bother to clarify that he's talking to Donghyuck.

The three of them look at each other. Donghyuck sighs. "I hate it when you're right, Jeno," he says. "So, Mark, where in the hospital are you?"

"Wait, wait, you're not thinking of coming here, are you?"

They manage to wheedle the location out of Mark, because he had been their leader for almost 3 years and so they know how to play him. And because playing Mark is easy.

"You better not say anything rude," Jeno says, on their way there, walking down white halls and past white rooms that are identical except for the numbers labeled on the side. For a place that's supposed to save lives, the hospital wing has always felt lifeless to Jaemin. If it weren't for the presence of the nurses and doctors rushing around, most of them looking harried, and the occasional patient being wheeled down the hall, Jaemin would think it was.

"Rude? Me? Never," Donghyuck says, with that telltale glint in his eye. "I'm only going to ask how Mark Lee of all people could have gotten himself in the hospital. I thought 127 was supposed to be better than us."

"You tried," Jaemin says, patting Jeno's shoulder. Donghyuck would never have let Mark live down an injury, and the chip on his shoulder from when Mark moved divisions doesn't help.

"We're here, Mark. About to see what kind of fool injuries you've gotten. Did you fall off your bike?" Donghyuck says, with a little too much bite for it to be a joke. Jeno elbows him. Jaemin raises a brow too. The chip off Donghyuck's shoulder is bigger than he thought. Mark doesn't deserve to be accused of falling.

"Oh, I've got more where that comes from," Donghyuck whispers to Jeno, who gives him one of his I'm-the-leader looks. This time it translates to shut-the-hell-up-or-I'll-kill-you. Donghyuck flashes a shit-eating grin, unmoved. That's one of the problems with this whole promoting a teammate who wasn't the leader before to leader thing. Selective obedience is the norm rather than the exception, unless they're on a mission.

"Can you remember what we came here for?" Jeno says.

"Seems like we came here to 'Talk to Mark'. Which is what I'm doing, if you hadn't noticed."

Whatever Donghyuck was going to say doesn't come out of his mouth. When they barge into Mark's room, they see him tied up to an IV drip with an arm in a sling and his leg bandaged up, the left side of his face banged up, and a bandage wrapped around his head.

Donghyuck rushes forward. "What happened to you? Who did this?"

Mark winces at the volume. They've never seen him this banged up. "Hi dream team," he says. The skin around the bandage on his leg is red and puffy.

"What happened?" Jaemin echoes.

Mark tells them how he went after a deal by the docks, and how he was supposed to catch a shipment of cocaine before it went out.

"I went to the boat first instead of checking in on what was happening on the ground—I thought the guy I'd sent in would keep them busy."

"I? You went alone?"

Mark pinks slightly on the cheeks. "I wasn't supposed to stop the shipment, just try to tag some of the right boxes so we could trace where they ended up. It would have been more obvious if I went with someone else."

"You're an idiot, Mark," Donghyuck says. All three of them frown at him. You always bring back up, no matter the situation. That's one of their cardinal rules.

Jeno, Captain obvious, says, "You're supposed to always bring backup."

Mark winces again, this time not from noise. "I forgot?" he tries.

The three of them stare at him until he cringes. The Mark Lee they know wouldn't forget something as basic as that, and he knows they know. In a small voice—and this is what Jaemin means when he says Mark is easy—Mark says, "I wanted to do it myself. Just prove that I have what it takes, you know? I don't think all the 127 members think I deserved to be added, and they try to keep me out of the action or hand-hold me through everything." They keep staring, until Mark ducks his head and says, "Can you not look at me like that? I know it was dumb."

Jaemin hadn't thought that Mark would have his own troubles. They'd all thought that Mark had left them in the dust, enjoying his new high-riding life with his new cooler friends in his new better division. They'd fallen out of contact over the past year, calls and messages coming less and less, their old group chat in its death throes, and after Renjun left it died for real. They'd never said it aloud, but they blamed Mark for it. The closest they came to vocalizing it was when they saw him walking by with 127 in the hallways and no one bothered to disagree when Donghyuck muttered, "He thinks he's too cool for us now." When Jaemin thinks back on it, he's not actually sure if Mark stopped reaching out first, or they did.

He wonders if they look guilty. Donghyuck sure does.

"You're a complete idiot, Mark Lee," Donghyuck says, probably to cover up the guilt. "You could've called us for back up. We wouldn't snitch on you to the rest of 127. We might even do it for a discount. Or those good snacks 127 has."

Mark smiles a bit at that. "Being your former leader doesn't get me backup for free? I guess snacks is worth you having my back though."

Jeno says, "We've always got your back. Dream team for life, right?"

Mark holds out a hand and Jeno grasps his palm. "Dream time for life." Donghyuck looks offended that Mark didn't offer a hand to him first, but he clasps Mark's hand after Jeno, and Jaemin clasps it after him. Mark's grip is strong despite his injuries, and the feeling of their palms pressed together is familiar in a way that reminds Jaemin of better times. He might hold on a little too long, though Mark doesn't seem to mind.

Mark tells them that he knew something was wrong once he got on the ship. The boxes that he was supposed to tag weren't where he'd expected, and when he did find some cargo, the first crate he checked was full of earthenware jars, each half full of a green powder.

"Green powder," Jeno murmurs. He brings the packet of dragon dust out of his pocket, and Mark pales. "Dragon dust," Jeno says.

"Is that the new drug?" Mark asks. "I'm not sure if it's the same, but it looked a lot like that."

Jaemin doesn't like the sound of shipments. Dragon dust is new, experimental, but it's not big. Not yet. That's why it's been given to Dream to investigate, not 127. It's supposed to be local. It's on their radar because there's talk, and along with the talk there's been the deaths. Though the deaths haven't been attributed to dragon dust, the correlation is undeniable, and they're supposed to root it out. They supposed to make sure it doesn't become big.

With how hard it's been to get their hands on a single gram of the drug, Jaemin thought they had plenty of time. He finds it hard to believe that Mark found full crates of it on a random ship at the docks.

"I tagged it," Mark says. Tags are minuscule clear transmitters that beam signal back to base. They're expensive as hell, so Jaemin doesn't know how Mark got some for his solo bust. Perks of being in 127 maybe. Did they just hand out tags if someone from 127 asked? Jaemin has to practically beg on his hands and knees each time he wants one.

If Mark's gotten a lead for them on dragon dust from this though, it's worth the tag.

Jaemin tries not to get excited about it. Mark's injured, and Jaemin's supposed to be worried about him, or at least lending a sympathetic ear, not hovering around the scraps of Mark's work like a vulture, thinking it's okay if the lion got taken down as long as they get to feast on the carrion. Still, they've been hunting weeks for a lead like this.

"I'm not sure it matters," Mark says.

"Why not?" Donghyuck demands, a little breathless himself.

"I'm sure it was a set up," Mark says.

When he snuck off the ship, he found the guy he sent undercover laid across the ground in the middle of the docks, his face slit from ear to ear. The explosion came not long after that, knocking Mark off his feet and leaving second degree burns down half his leg.

"I fractured my arm and knocked my head when I landed. Pretty sure the explosion was supposed to off me, but I got lucky. Never got close enough to where the bomb went off. They'll know I got away though, when they don't find a body."

"How did you get away?" Jeno asks.

Mark's cheeks pink again. "Yuta tailed me. He got me out of there."

"I thought you said the other people in 127 didn't like you."

"Most of them don't like me." Jaemin finds that hard to believe. Mark is hard to dislike, even if he doesn't notice it himself. It's the Mark effect, which applies broadly to anyone in his orbit. Jaemin wouldn't be surprised if it brought out the protectiveness of the older 127 members, and that's what is keeping Mark from the action. "They don't trust me." Mark groans. "Now they're definitely not going to trust me, and I owe Yuta one. And he's not going to let me forget that."

"And to think you were the responsible one of Dream," Donghyuck marvels. "I almost like 127 Mark better."

Mark attempts to knock Donghyuck on the head with his bad arm. This causes him a lot more pain than Donghyuck, and while he's saying, "Ow ow ow", the nurse comes back in. The nurse chases them out, saying they shouldn't agitate the patient.

"I'm not agitated, just not used to being injured," Mark protests, but the nurse ignores him.

"Time for you to rest," he says.

They leave behind a disgruntled Mark, after getting a promise out of him to tell them where the tag he left behind ends up, if it hasn’t already been discovered and removed.

They stop by the labs on the way back to drop off the dragon dust.

"We saw the report," the attendant says. "Three packets?"

Jeno and Donghyuck pull out their packets. The green powder seems harmless in the little plastic coverings. The packets go down the chute to the labs, one after another, dropped in and whisked away with a whoosh.

"Two," Jaemin says.

"I'm sure I read three?" the attendant says, and flips over the paper on his clipboard with a small frown.

"Must have been a mistake in the report," Jaemin says. Jeno narrows his eyes at Jaemin, but doesn't say anything. Jeno steps on Jaemin's toes when the attendant isn't watching, and Jaemin has to bite down a cry.

"Make me look bad again and you're dead," Jeno grumbles on their way back.

"You wouldn't. You love me too much," Jaemin says.

Jaemin rubs the packet of dragon dust between his fingers.

Jaemin circles the block. He doesn't give any explanation to Donghyuck or Jeno when he says he wants to patrol the dead area between the convoluted maze of west side and the orderly streets of the northern sector.

It's close to where they caught the target last time.

He circles the block a couple times in slow, lazy circles. He keeps passing by the same spot.

There's nothing special about the spot, which is more obvious in the light of day. A nondescript street surrounded by equally nondescript buildings. Blocks of gray slate each borne of the same mold. Nothing different from the rest of the dead area, all of it similar nondescript streets and buildings.

There's a trashcan by the side, and litter scattered around it. A pigeon pecks at the trash. It trains one beady eye on Jaemin each time he passes, but it’s unafraid.

Jaemin passes by the spot again, and heads home.

Taeyong clasps his hands together over the mahogany table in front of him. Jeno, Donghyuck, and Jaemin stand in front of him. Jeno stands still, his back straight. He's gotten used to making reports to Taeyong. He usually does that alone, the way Renjun did before him, and Mark before that.

Mark and Taeyong go way back, and have been with NCT forever. It doesn't change the fact that Taeyong is his boss, but when Taeyong is with Mark he seems more casual, defenses not up as high.

In front of them he's just the chief.

Taeyong isn't a large man, but his presence fills the room. There's something about his sharp eyes that makes it feel like he can see right through them. He screams danger in a way Jaemin recognizes at an instinctual base level, that gut level that keeps Jaemin from going too far and wiping out when he's on a ride.

Jaemin resists the urge to fidget. Donghyuck's more twitchy, but he hides it well. He keeps his movement to one finger tapping against his leg.

The three of them haven't been summoned together to Taeyong's office for a long time. The last time was when Renjun left, and the Taeyong then had been less a chief and more a sympathetic older brother. Jaemin understood that on some level it was part of Taeyong's job as a chief too—he needed to get them back on their feet—but whatever Taeyong's duties, the sympathy felt genuine. It was probably the first and last time they would see him like that.

The Taeyong in front of them now is in his standard chief mode, face unreadable, authority impossible to deny. Jaemin briefly pictures Renjun in front of Taeyong. He wonders if Renjun felt intimidated, and if his nerves showed.

"I'm going to pull Dream out of the dragon dust job," Taeyong says.

Nerves or not, Jaemin says, "What?"

Donghyuck is less diplomatic. "What the hell?"

Jeno doesn't respond right away, but he doesn't look happy either. He thinks through what he has to say, his months of reporting to Taeyong coming in handy, but Jaemin sees the tension in his shoulders. "We've been working on this for weeks, and we just got samples of dragon dust down to the labs. I'm not sure I understand why we should get pulled out now."

Taeyong is impassive. "Precisely. You got the samples. Now that we have enough of the substance to analyze, we don't need to use Dream's talents on this job anymore. There's more important work for the three of you."

"But we haven't found out where it comes from, or who's been distributing it."

Taeyong doesn't blink. "It's a low distribution drug, Jeno. We don't have the resources to spend more of Dream's time on it. The samples are enough."

Jaemin protests, "It is low distribution, but you have to admit the pattern is strange. It shouldn't have been so hard to get these samples. And it's new, but it came around the same time as the increase in deaths in those high-end bars and clubs in—"

"I admit it was harder than we anticipated to get samples, but it is low distribution and it is new. There are more important matters than a possible, and still completely unproven connection, between dragon dust and the deaths. Don't jump to conclusions, Jaemin. The lab will analyze what you've brought in, and if needed, I will put a team back on the job."

"But—"

"Who told you to pull us out? Was it your boss? Was it Chanyeol, or Kai?" Jeno asks quietly. Taeyong's the chief of NCT, but NCT is just one part of SM Operations, an anti-crime organization with a front as a collection of medical and manufacturing companies. NCT works in tandem with several other branches, and reports up to EXO rather than the board directly because they're one of the newer branches. It's a chip on Taeyong's shoulder that they're forced to accept the extra oversight.

Taeyong levels a gaze at Jeno. There's the barest hint of anger there, but it's enough to remind Jaemin why Taeyong's the chief. Jaemin wants to shiver. "It doesn't matter who told me to pull you out. It is a decision I agree with, and it is final."

Jeno swallows. "Yes, chief."

"Good. Come by the day after tomorrow Jeno. I'll brief you on a new job then. For now, the three of you can have a day off."

They file out of the room.

Jaemin runs his finger against the packet of dragon dust still in his pocket. He doesn't know why he carries it on his person rather than keeping it in their living quarters.

The three of them share a look. Taeyong is right, and they know it. Dragon dust is too new and too unheard of to warrant further investigation. They're all more invested than they should be because it doesn't usually take them that long to get any leads, and they don't like being on the same level as the other teams. They should wait for his orders. They'll probably be too busy to look into it soon enough.

Still, Jaemin remembers Renjun's words. _This is bigger than you know._

He turns the dragon dust packet over between his fingers.

Jaemin doesn't plan to return to the same spot again so soon. It might give Renjun the impression that Jaemin's looking for him, and Renjun doesn't deserve that. Not when he's healthy and well, and doesn't regret leaving them the way he should, and even dares to interfere with their work when he has no right to know what they're up to.

Jaemin can almost forget about their strange meeting. It feels like it was months ago, though it's been a few days. After their day off, they've been so busy they barely have time to breathe.

One of the smaller gangs, the KT Eagles, has been acting up. Usually they'd be sent in to teach the gang a lesson, bag up some of the important members or break up some of their operations. Just remind them that NCT is watching and not to go too far.

This time is different. The KT Eagles have been discovered with their hands in a trafficking operation taking minors from their families, and the orders are simple. Take them down.

Rooting out a gang like this takes work, even if it's a small one like KT. The data on KT isn’t helpful. The last surveillance reported 10 members, but last surveillance was almost a year ago, and they have to have been recruiting in that time. Building up their forces, and their supplies. It will take time.

They spend the day spreading out their feelers, checking in with old contacts that might know who's in KT now or where their recent activity has been.

Jaemin finally takes a breather after the sun has set. For him, a breather is a ride. He doesn't plan to go back to the spot. He didn't think he was—he was pretty sure he'd been going in a different direction. Though he hasn't been paying all that much attention.

But before he knows it, he's back in the dead area between west and north, heading down a street as if drawn there by an invisible thread.

Jaemin isn't looking for anything this time, but this time he's there.

Renjun stands by the same wall as before, in the exact same spot.

Same hair, same clothes, same piercing. Same feeling of distance. Same feeling of being too close. Renjun's half blended in with the shadows.

"You haven't come back in a while," Renjun says.

"I'm busy," Jaemin says. "And even if I wasn't, I have no reason to come back."

"Right." Renjun chews on his lip the way he does when he's nervous.

"We talked to Mark," Jaemin says. "How did you know he caught a shipment of dragon dust?"

"I didn't."

"Then why did you tell me to talk to him?"

"I had a hunch."

"You can't just have hunches like that," Jaemin almost spits at him. "You never did before, or you would have been better than you were."

Renjun chews his lip again. There's something he's not telling Jaemin, but Jaemin can't grasp at what it is. The space around them feels formless in the night, vague and static like the beginnings of a dream.

"Donghyuck called you a traitor," Jaemin says.

Renjun flinches. "I'd never betray you," he says, almost snarls. Hurt again. Jaemin is pleased.

"You left." Jaemin doesn't need to say that's the same thing.

Renjun's knee-jerk flare of anger crumbles. He looks down at the ground for a long time, and when he looks back up at Jaemin he can't hide how small, how miserable he appears. "I had to. I couldn't do it anymore," he whispers.

"You could have tried."

"I did try."

"You didn't try hard enough. You thought of yourself first. You always did," Jaemin says. Renjun has no response to that. "If you're not a traitor, why are you here? Tell me why you know things you're not supposed to."

"I can't," Renjun says, and it's like a door has shut.

The old bell tower tolls the end of the hour.

Ding dong.

"I don't have much time," Renjun says.

"Neither do I," Jaemin says. "Not for you."

Ding dong.

"Do you remember my old contact? He can help you with that," Renjun says, pointing at Jaemin's pocket where he keeps the packet of dragon dust.

Renjun shouldn't know.

"I'm not into listening to traitors," Jaemin says.

He rides off. The last thing he sees is the blur of Renjun's pale face against the shadowed background of the wall, the trash can nearby dark grey and rust red, an edge of silver gleaming off its side from the moonlight. He can't see Renjun's expression clearly, but he thinks Renjun might look like someone's kicked him in the chest. For a moment he almost turns around because he'd like to see that, but instead he rides faster. He doesn't look back.

One of Donghyuck's feelers gets the information they need. They nab a scrawny boy off the street, one of KT's new recruits, and get the location of their headquarters out of him. Jaemin only had to cut off one of the boy's fingers to get him to talk. He's almost disappointed. KT's young and growing fast, which means they're careless. They didn't even hide headquarters from the new ones. Rookie mistake.

The boy babbles everything, the location of headquarters, when the gang meets, the codenames of important members, and the real names of members if he knows them.

Jaemin almost thinks it's a trap, but the pure, unadulterated terror in the boy's eyes says otherwise. Jaemin decides to be kind after the boy stops babbling. He kills the boy with a knife through the ribs instead of dragging it out.

Jeno chides him for it. "He could have known more," Jeno says.

Jaemin shakes his head. "He didn't."

Jeno, Donghyuck, and Jaemin bring the place down around KT's ears. They detonate a bomb in the building during a gang meeting, and wait by the entrance for any survivors. There aren't many. The few who remain stagger out, some with injuries bad enough that they won't make it far without medical attention, and they pick them off easy.

They get the next few days off, because Taeyong doesn't have a new assignment for them yet. That means that aside from doing routine patrols, and keeping an eye out for suspicious activity, they've got some downtime.

After breakfast on their first day off, Jaemin pulls the packet of dragon dust out of his pocket and waves it at them. He gets up from the table, and they rise with him. They follow him down to their bikes.

He rides ahead, Donghyuck and Jeno hard on his tail. No matter how fast he goes, he can't get very far ahead of them. Even though they don't know where he's taking them, they speed up when he does, stow down when does, and turn when he does. They've ridden together for so long that they almost know each other like they know themselves.

Jaemin pushes them hard even though it's a bright morning with the sun shining in their eyes, and they really have no business going at 90 mph. If they get pulled over by the cops, Taeyong's going to kill them.

But Jaemin's never been much about moderation.

They pull over by a narrow street. Stone ground, and narrow wooden buildings that press up on either side, packed one after the other. There's no clear sense of when one place becomes the next aside from doors and signs that would be bright neons, flashing colors at nighttime but are now dull and flat. It's the kind of place that comes alive at night. Half the places are bars, or midnight eateries with drinks.

They lock up their bikes and follow Jaemin into the street.

"Are you trying to get hammered during the day?" Donghyuck asks, though the street is quiet. Nothing seems to be open. "I mean, not complaining."

Jaemin stops in front of a place without one of the colored signs. There's a wooden slat hanging above the door that's half washed out. It would read Medicines and More, Cures for All Ailments, but the scrawled, definitely handwritten letters have faded to the point where it just says Medicines and Ailments. A vine runs up the side of the wall, a pop of color on what's otherwise brown and beige.

Jaemin doesn't know how he remembers how to get here. He doesn't recall coming to this exact place, though he is sure the street has been pointed out to him before.

He reaches up a hand, and raps his knuckles against the door. There's no response.

Jeno looks dubiously at the dark windows. "Where are we, and are you sure this is the right place?" He doesn't ask why they're here, and Jaemin feels sudden gratification to have that trust from them. They followed him without explanation, and did so without hesitation.

After half a minute, he reaches up and raps the door again, with more force this time.

When there's still no response, he starts to feel uneasy himself. He really doesn't remember coming before, even if the place feels right.

"Maybe they're not home," Jeno says.

"Maybe," Jaemin says, unable to pinpoint why he feels like they should stay.

He's about to sigh and suggest they come back later when he hears a creak from the other side of the door. It's followed by a crash, a shuffling noise, and a curse. Footsteps lead to the door, and with another creak, the door opens a fraction, enough for half a face to show in the crack.

A baleful eye stares at them.

"May I ask who dares to disturb me at this god awful hour in the morning?" It's at least 11. The sun shines happily in a blue sky. Not much of the light falls into the street, as it’s blocked off by the buildings on either side, but the man glares at the sun too. "You'd better have a good reason if you don't want me to eviscerate you."

Jaemin takes a breath. "We're friends of Renjun's," he says.

He ignores the collective gasps that come from either side, Jeno's shocked and Donghyuck's offended.

"We are not his friends," Donghyuck snaps.

"Shut up," Jeno hisses at him.

"Doesn't sound like you're sure about that," the man says. He glares at them again. Jaemin fumbles, shuffling through his mind for proof. He doesn't have much except that they were all part of Dream, and Jaemin doesn't know if this man knows Renjun was part of Dream, or even part of NCT. But he doesn't need to say anything, because the man says, "Which I suppose means you actually did know him, to some degree."

Jaemin hears a series of bolts being slid aside. It doesn't escape him that this is an unusual level of security for a nondescript building wedged in a bar alley. It gives Jaemin more hope that he got the right contact. It's not like he had many options—he doesn't remember another contact from Renjun's past, but in the early days he hadn't paid much attention to who Renjun talked to.

The man undoes the final latch, opens the door half a fraction more, and waves them into the dimly lit interior. He leads them past shelves with jars of flesh suspended in liquid. Jaemin tries to take in as much detail as he can from the periphery without staring. A rat hangs floating upside down in a jar, next to an eyeball, a pair of kidneys, a foot that has to be human.

"Gross," Donghyuck says next to him, looking around with unabashed interest.

"Don't touch anything," the man orders, a particularly sharp eye on Donghyuck.

"I wouldn't if he paid me," Donghyuck whispers to them under his breath. Jaemin is pretty sure the man hears, but he doesn't respond.

He leads them into a darker room, the windows blocked out by thick curtains. Half of the room is separated by another curtain, open in the middle. Jaemin sees what looks like an operating table through the gap, something pale and fleshy sitting smack in the middle of it, haloed by white electric light.

The man pulls that curtain shut, blocking out the white light and throwing the room into deeper darkness. Jaemin thinks, if the man wants to incapacitate them, this is when he would try. Jaemin puts on hand on the gun at his side.

Instead, the man pulls open the curtains covering the window, illuminating the room with the little sunlight that makes it past the walls of the surrounding buildings. He sits in a chair and crosses one leg over the other. He makes no offer for them to sit. There’s no other chairs in the room anyway.

"You're Ten," Jaemin says. It's not a question.

"You could call me that," Ten says.

"Or Chittapon Leechaiyapornkul," Jaemin says.

Ten stills. "Now where did you hear that?" he says, same unworried tone, but his stillness is like that of a jaguar before it decides to pounce.

"We know all about you," Jaemin says. Not true. He got Ten's real name from a scribble in Renjun's old journal, the only personal piece of himself he left behind. None of them had opened it since, leaving it a dying artifact hidden within a stack of other books they'd bought to decorate their place instead of read.

Not until last night, when Jaemin caved to his curiosity and riffled through the pages in a half-frenzy, as if expecting his conscience to show up somewhere in the middle and shoot down the idea of listening to Renjun. He skipped the diary-like entries—his conscience demanded that much—but searched through the notes that interspersed them. Dates and records of their activities, of what worked and didn't, sometimes a mention of Taeyong's instructions. It took him half an hour to find a note about Ten, and maybe he glanced over a couple of the diary entries. Maybe he didn't.

"What do you want?" A beam of sunlight glints against the five piercings Ten has in his right ear.

Jaemin pulls out the packet of dragon dust. He hears a sharp intake of breath. At first he thinks it's probably Jeno, but then he realizes it's Ten.

"I want you to analyze this," Jaemin says. He's aware both Jeno and Donghyuck are staring at him now, torn between arguing with him and keeping their mouths shut. They keep quiet like he knew they would, because arguments within the team stay within the team. It's his packet of dragon dust, anyway. It's not his fault they gave theirs away.

"I can do that for you," Ten purrs. "For a price." Ten reaches for the packet, but Jaemin pulls it back out of his reach. The edges of Ten's eyes narrow, and his jaw tenses for a fraction of a second before he sits back in his chair, as relaxed as before.

"For no price."

Ten shifts forward, putting his arms over his crossed legs. "You think very little of my services then," Ten says. He acts calm, but Jaemin is sure he's not. Not for the first time, the radar in Jaemin's head pings. Ten's dangerous. He doesn't know how Ten became one of Renjun's contacts.

"Not at all," Jaemin says. He's not bad at acting calm either, but he's also sure Ten isn't fooled. "But I do think you want this more than you want money."

Ten leans back. He nods, finally. "You do know me better than I thought."

Jaemin goes to hand the dragon dust over, but a hand shoots out and grabs his wrist. "How do we know we can trust you?" Jeno asks.

Ten considers him, considers all three of them. Maybe he likes what he sees, or maybe he wants the dragon dust that bad, because he gives them an honest answer. "You don't. But if you're coming to me that means your lab—don't look at me like that. I know you're NCT—" Jaemin tries not to take their compromised identities like a stab to the chest, wonders if that's Renjun's fault too. "—you are well known in certain communities, riding your motorcycles around like that. Your lab isn't giving you the answers you seek. Now I don't promise I can give you those either, but there's a hell of a lot I can do that a regulated lab can't. As it turns out, I'm looking for answers too, so our interests align."

"What answers could you be looking for?" Donghyuck asks.

"Maybe the same ones as you, maybe not. Dragon dust isn't good for business."

"What business," Donghyuck says, but Ten doesn't elaborate.

"Can we trust you?" Jeno repeats.

Ten taps his fingers against the arm of his chair. "No. But for this, I will share whatever I find. I give you my word. You can decide what that's worth to you."

Jeno lets go of Jaemin's wrist, and pats him on the shoulder. Your decision, it seems to say.

Jaemin already made his decision a while ago, sitting on his bike facing a gray wall and a phantom of his memory.

Jaemin holds the dragon dust out to Ten. Ten snatches it up in a movement almost too fast for the eye.

"Did Renjun trust you?" Jaemin asks.

He doesn't expect an answer, so he's surprised when Ten goes quiet for a while. "Yes,” Ten says. “He did.”

"Where is Renjun anyway?" Donghyuck throws out, real casual.

Ten's fingers stop moving against the arm of his chair. A shadow crosses over his face, a cloud over the sun, so fast if they blinked they would have missed it. They don't blink and they don't miss it, but Jaemin doesn't know what it means. Other than that Ten knows something, and Jaemin will get it out of him if he needs to burn this place down. Later, when they've gotten what they need from him.

Ten smiles without mirth. "Wouldn't you like to know?" he says.

Jaemin remembers.

He remembers that the first time they rode as five. It was nothing short of a disaster. They didn't only fail to terminate the deal. They _lost_ the target.

It wasn't actually Renjun's fault. It was a case of bad recon. But Renjun was the main difference in the team, and it was the first time they lost the target.

"You should just stay home if you're going to drag us down," Donghyuck had yelled at him when they got back to their place, while Mark tried to calm the situation.

"Let's take some time to cool down," Mark said, but he had been speaking for himself as much as the rest of them.

It was because of Donghyuck that Renjun eventually got better, though Renjun would probably disagree. Renjun came in quiet and stayed quiet until Donghyuck came at him, all fire and vitriol. They thought Renjun was the type to take it lying down, but Jaemin had never been more wrong. Renjun argued back with the same vitriol. They argued to the point where proving Donghyuck wrong became Renjun's driving ambition, and it worked better than any motivational speech Mark could have given.

Renjun got to the point where he could keep up with them, and eventually became enough like the rest of them that Jaemin found it hard to imagine the time before he rode. When Jaemin envisioned him, it was the same way he envisioned himself or any of the others, on his bike, the bike an extension of his body rather than a vehicle.

Jaemin couldn't say there was a singular moment when Renjun switched from being that strange other to being one of them. He remembers many fragments of moments, each not worth much on its own, but stacked together the whole greater than the sum of its parts. The first time Renjun laid the groundwork, figuring out where to position each of them so that they'd net the boss of a small organization instead of his lackeys. That'd earned even Donghyuck's grudging respect. When they sped together down the highway, so late at night that few cars were on the road, whooping as they tried to beat each other back home (Jaemin or Jeno always got there first, except that one time Renjun teamed up with Donghyuck to block them and Mark won instead to everyone's disappointment). When someone, maybe Jeno, maybe all of them, moved Renjun's things from the living room to their room.

Renjun lying next to Jaemin that first night he slept in their room, careful to keep space between them.

Sometime in there the space between them disappeared. It was not momentous, not attached to a particular when or why. It just happened.

The third time Jaemin meets Renjun, he finds the pattern of it. Always the same spot, always between the same hours of the night.

"I met your contact," Jaemin says, because there's no point in hiding it. If Renjun's contacted Ten, he already knows. Relief floods Renjun's expression, so maybe he didn’t.

It cuts Jaemin to see that. Renjun shouldn't care so much. It's all wrong.

He shouldn't be listening to Renjun, and Renjun shouldn't care.

"Where are you getting your information from?" Jaemin asks.

Renjun doesn't answer. Maybe he can't.

The old bell tower tolls the end of the hour.

Ding dong.

"I don't have much time," Renjun says.

"Where are you going?" Jaemin asks. Renjun opens his mouth, but Jaemin cuts him off. "Never mind. I don't want to know."

Ding dong.

Jaemin leaves. It's strange that now he's the one with the hotter temper between them. By the time he gets home he can't seem to remember why he was angry. He's not sure he was angry, or if he left because it hurt to stay.

Jaemin remembers.

He remembers Renjun lying on the couch watching a horror movie on his laptop. He insists on watching them and insists they don't scare him, even though he struggles to sleep afterward. Jaemin doesn't mind because it's funny to watch. Maybe Renjun borrows deeper into his side at night afterward, and maybe Jaemin doesn't mind that either.

Renjun pauses the movie in the middle, which is rare. He cocks his head at Jaemin and asks, "Do you believe in ghosts?"

"Did you pause it because you're scared?" Jaemin asks.

"I'm not scared," Renjun says. "Answer the question, Jaemin."

"No, I don't."

Jaemin has never believed in the supernatural. The idea of being haunted by a ghost is ridiculous—if ghosts existed, which they don't, they ought to have something better to do than follow someone else around.

What Jaemin realizes now is that he doesn't need a ghost to haunt him. He's already haunted by the living.

They run into Mark on their way to the cafeteria. They notice that he's got his gear on, but none of the 127 members are with him.

"Going somewhere?" Jeno says.

Mark stops, guilt written all over his face.

"We're coming with you," Donghyuck says, and puts a hand on one of Mark's shoulders while Jaemin puts a hand on the other, ignoring his protests of, "I'm not going anywhere."

"Still no better at lying, Mark Lee," Jaemin says with a shake of his head. "Though I can't believe you'd try to lie to us." Mark has the decency to look guiltier.

They herd him into their rooms.

Turns out that Mark hasn't been able to get his mind off dragon dust either. "I know this is your case, so I'm sorry," Mark begins, but apologies are replaced by shock when Jeno tells him it's not their case anymore. They've been pulled off.

"Why? That doesn't make sense." Mark bites his lip. "Taeyong would have a had a good reason."

Donghyuck raises his hands, a what-can-I-do. "If he did, he wasn't willing to share."

Mark pulls out a photo from his jacket pocket, paper-clipped together with some notes. He puts it on their table. It's the frontal profile of a man. Clean-cut, clean-shaven, the photo like a headshot for employment. "A little birdie told me his DNA was found on one of the packets of dragon dust you brought in. They couldn’t find a match for the rest of the fingerprints, but it’s a start."

Jaemin's stomach twists. A little birdie? Someone who knows too much has been talking to Mark too?

"By little birdie you mean Doyoung from forensics," Donghyuck says. "Don't pretend you have new friends we don't know about."

"Wow, I have some new friends. But okay, it was Doyoung."

Jaemin's stomach untwists.

"I was going to go check it out. Tail him, nothing serious," Mark says.

Jaemin picks up his helmet. "We're coming with you."

Half a protest escapes Mark's lips, but he shuts his mouth when he sees the look on their faces. He shakes his head, but grins.

"Just like old times, huh?" he says. "Dream team."

"Dream team," they echo. It sounds awkward. It's like coming home after a long time.

Jaemin promised himself he wouldn't go through Renjun's journal again, but he lied. As he flips through the pages, he tells himself it would have been irresponsible not to. Renjun left a long time before dragon dust came up, but there might be other information he left behind that they could use.

It's harder to skip the diary entries this time, and Jaemin's eye catches on fragments of sentences. He turns to the last non-empty page.

The entry there is short.

_June 2._

It's the day before Renjun left.

_We're cracking apart at the seams. I wish Mark would come back, or at least that he could tell me what to do. Donghyuck got injured today because of me. He almost lost his arm because I couldn't make the right call fast enough._

_I can't do that again, or ever. I just can't. I don't think they'd understand if I told them._

_I can't be their leader. Maybe it's selfish that I've stayed so long when I knew that all along._

_I'll miss them. I wish I could tell them how sorry I am._

Some of the ink is blotched, as if it'd been touched by water. Jaemin closes the journal.

They follow the man when he's on his way out from a tall white building marked as Venture Medical. It's easy to trail him. His white lab coat swishes as he walks, and four boys in casual clothing blend in with the crowds that stream past during rush hour. Jaemin misses his bike.

They surround the man without his knowledge, walking to his back and sides, matching his pace. Donghyuck presses the gun against his back. It's neatly hidden from view by Jeno walking to his side, a half-step ahead.

"Keep walking and say nothing, unless you want me to shoot," Donghyuck hisses in the man's ear.

The man startles them all when he makes a small noise like a whimper, and almost stops in the middle of the road. Mark recovers the quickest. He catches the man's arm before they can attract attention, and guides him into a less populated area. He comes without resistance. From there they make a couple turns until they get to a narrow walkway between two buildings, just about wide enough for two of them to stand side by side. There's no one there but them and some trash on the ground.

Mark spins the man around so that he has to stare down the barrel of Donghyuck's gun. The man holds his hands up in the air. The whites of his eyes show.

"Why are you threatening me? I don't have much money," he says. He turns his head around wildly.

"You know that's not what this is about," Mark says.

The problem is, Jaemin doesn't think the man knows. Mark's words register as nothing to him, judging by his blank, terrified expression.

"If you hurt me, I'll—I'll call the police," the man says. He backs up from them, though there's nowhere to go. It's a dead end.

"The police?" Jeno mutters under his breath to Jaemin. The kind of people that work on something like dragon dust wouldn’t go to the police.

Donghyuck tips the gun at the man, who actually flinches. "I wouldn't worry about the police if I were you," he says.

"Tell me, what do you do?" Mark asks.

"What I do?"

"Your job. What's your job?"

"I'm a scientist at Venture Medical," the man says. "We’re working on a treatment for insomnia. We have yet to go through clinical trials."

Mark slams his palm against the wall, and the man jumps. "What's your real job?"

The man's voice trembles. "That is my job." He looks about ready to piss himself.

"Dragon dust. Does that mean anything to you?" Mark demands.

There's no comprehension, no flicker of half-disguised recognition. The man just trembles. "I don't know what you're talking about. But you shouldn't do this. I-I have a son your age."

This is wrong. He's too scared.

Jaemin leans in toward Mark, and whispers into his ear, "I think he's a civilian."

Mark swears. He makes a signal with his hand, and they dash out of the walkway, leaving the man behind them.

"What part of pulling you off the case did you not understand?" Taeyong says.

The four of them stand in Taeyong's office, heads lowered. Jaemin feels small, pushed down by the weight of Taeyong's anger.

"It was my fault, I instigated this—"

"Shut up, Mark."

Mark chokes off halfway, not used to Taeyong’s anger being directed at him.

"Not only did you ignore my direct orders, you threatened a civilian." Jaemin wonders how Taeyong knows, but Taeyong's got plenty of eyes and ears, especially near the business district they were in.

"But there has to be more to this case," Jeno says. Jaemin is surprised that he's the one arguing with Taeyong. Jeno looks daunted with Taeyong turns the full force of his piercing stare on him, but he stands his ground. Jaemin would've squeezed Jeno's shoulder in support if Taeyong wasn't watching their movements so closely. "If we could just—"

"Whether there is more or not is no longer your concern. When we evaluate the situation, if we find something of concern, we'll put the resources we need into it." Taeyong's gaze softens, by a fraction. "I understand it doesn't feel good to get pulled out halfway, but the decision to pull you out comes all the way from the top of the chain. We have bigger fish to fry, and we can't afford to waste more time on this. And NCT can't afford to be making foolish mistakes like waving a gun at a civilian."

They lower their heads in shame.

"Am I clear?"

"Yes, chief."

“I think Renjun’s playing us. He’s setting us up,” Donghyuck says.

“What are you on about?” Jaemin says.

“There’s nothing big here. There’s no bigger than you know. It’s just his last fuck you to see if we’ll still chase our tails for him.”

“We’ve been looking at dragon dust for a while. It is bigger than we thought.”

Donghyuck whips his head around and stares Jaemin down. “This isn’t about dragon dust. This is about you, and this—this pipe dream you can’t let go of. It’s about you thinking that if you listen to Renjun and the case goes the way you want, he’s going to come back all nice and easy and everything will be like before.”

“It’s not about that. That’s not what I want,” Jaemin snarls.

“Think about it. Renjun shows up out of nowhere and wants us to look into dragon dust. How did he even know about it? You know he shouldn’t know about it.”

“It’s not like you complained when we looked into his tip.”

“And that was a mistake. For all we know, he’s probably working against us now.”

The words hit Jaemin like a punch to the gut. Before he knows it he’s moving. He fists both hands in Donghyuck’s shirt and pushes him against the wall. “Renjun wouldn’t do that.”

Donghyuck shoves Jaemin back. “Listen to yourself. ‘Renjun wouldn’t do that’. He’s got you good. This whole thing is shady, and you’d know it if for one second you could stop living in the past, Na Jaemin. Wake up.”

Jaemin is about shove Donghyuck again when Jeno steps between them.

Jeno regards Jaemin with a mixture of trepidation and pity, and that hits harder than Donghyuck’s words. “I’m sorry, Jaemin, but Donghyuck’s right.” From behind Jeno’s back, Donghyuck lifts his chin in a gesture of triumph, and Jaemin’s fists clench. “As much as I want to trust Renjun, it is suspicious. And like what Taeyong said, we can’t afford to keep going after this.”

Jaemin’s resolve falters, but he can’t stop himself from saying, “You both weren’t there. You didn’t see him. I know he wasn’t lying.”

“Then take us to see him,” Jeno says. There’s something beyond duty there, a half-plea that doesn’t come from Jeno being a leader and trying to find a solution to their conflicts. Even Donghyuck doesn’t voice a protest, despite all his talk about how they shouldn’t give heed to traitors.

Maybe Jaemin hasn’t been the only one looking for Renjun.

The three of them ride out, speeding down the highways. They move fast but without their usual abandon. Jaemin follows that invisible thread that leads him back to the same place.

It’s the same spot and the same hours of the night, but no one’s there.

A lone pigeon pecks at a half-rotted apple core. It might be the same pigeon Jaemin saw before.

“Scat,” Jaemin tells the pigeon. It ignores him. Jaemin stares at the wall as if the force of his gaze will make Renjun materialize out of thin air.

“So, no one, huh?” Donghyuck says.

“I don’t think he’s here every day, but it’s always been at this time and this spot. We can try again another time,” Jaemin says.

Jeno reaches out from across his bike and puts a hand on Jaemin’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Jaemin,” he says quietly. He sounds so sad Jaemin thinks that he should be the one putting a hand on Jeno’s shoulder. “I don’t think we should.”

Still, they wait until the old bell tower tolls the end of the hour.

After they head off, Jaemin turns back, but there’s nothing but a gray wall.

Jaemin shows up at Ten’s door by himself. He secretly wishes Donghyuck or Jeno would have followed him, and he made enough of a racket while heading out that they could have, but they didn’t. So far they’re sticking with their decision to wash their hands clean of dragon dust until Taeyong says otherwise—and Jaemin stubbornly insists that it’s an until, not an if. They refuse to entertain any talk of it. Yet, they don’t stop him.

“Your friends aren’t here this time?” Ten asks. “And here I thought you came as buy 1 get 3 deal.”

Ten is in a significantly better mood than the last time, probably because Jaemin showed up in the evening rather than around noon. Ten in a better mood is still snappish, but he seems less inclined to bite Jaemin’s head off. He leads Jaemin to the same room as before. Jaemin takes in more of what they pass this time, the jars of organs, flesh, and misshapen animals. It makes him more squeamish than before, with the flickering lights lining the hallway outlining odd details in yellow and throwing blue shadows across the shelves. He gets no closer to figuring out what Ten actually does. He only half wants to know, at this point.

Ten sits back into the same chair, crosses one leg over the other, and laces his fingers over his knee.

“Your timing is good. I got some results yesterday, but I remembered we don’t have a way of contacting each other,” Ten says. The lighting carves his face into pieces of yellow and blue.

“Should we have a way to contact each other?”

“You know where to find me,” Ten says.

“What did you find?”

Ten’s lips curve up. “No, no, not so easy. This information is valuable.”

Jaemin tenses. “I don’t have money on me,” he says, his jaw tight. “This wasn’t the deal.”

Ten’s smile stays affixed on his face. “I don’t want your money. I know you NCT riders don’t have enough for half the goods I sell. I want you to do me a favor. Don’t look so upset. You knew the deal was only a deal until I had the upper hand.”

“What kind of favor,” Jaemin says. It takes some effort not to grit his teeth.

“First, information for information. Where did you find my name?”

“Renjun told me,” Jaemin says.

The smile drops from Ten’s face so fast it’s hard to believe it was ever there. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not. He told me last time I saw him.”

“Months ago then,” Ten says. So Ten knows when Renjun left Dream. He also doesn’t believe Jaemin. Jaemin can tell that much, and he can tell that as long as Ten thinks he’s lying, the info Ten has is going to stay out of his reach.

“A few days ago,” Jaemin says. That’s close enough to a truth.

“Renjun couldn’t have met you a few days ago. He wouldn’t have told you, even if he did,” Ten says. Jaemin doesn’t know how Ten can sound so certain, nor how he can have so much faith in Renjun. Nor does he understand the strange note of emotion in Ten’s voice. Shadow and light play across Ten’s face.

Ten taps a finger against the arm of his chair. “Fine. It doesn’t matter so much to me where you got the name, but I want you to erase it from your system. That’s the favor I want from you.”

“Deal. If you trust me to do that,” Jaemin says.

“Somehow I do.” Ten smiles again, though he looks past Jaemin as if his mind is elsewhere. Jaemin still can’t read him.

Ten goes through a series of tests he ran on the dragon dust, rattles off names and procedures Jaemin doesn’t understand. “The main compound in it I’ve only seen in one other drug. It’s the same compound in a popular over-the-counter remedy for sleeplessness, made by…”

“Venture Medical?”

“How did you know?”

Jaemin debates withholding the information. Ten isn’t NCT, Ten is dangerous, and Ten isn’t trustworthy. But Ten’s the only one who’s helping him on this case. And Renjun trusted him.

Ten nods when Jaemin tells him about the scientist they questioned, whose DNA showed up on a packet of dragon dust but doesn’t seem to know anything about it.

“A new drug for insomnia? Interesting. What they have out currently is benign, but dragon dust is cut with other compounds, most of them not as illegal as I would have expected.”

“Do you think they’re involved?”

“I doubt it, though I wouldn’t table the idea. Someone inside might be selling what they have, or making it on the side. Maybe someone who’s friends with your scientist, even.”

Jaemin leaves Ten’s place half-elated, half-frustrated. Their lead isn’t useless, but he doesn’t know where to go from here. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to get close to Venture Medical after what they pulled last time.

“Do come again if you need my services,” Ten says.

“What are your services?” Jaemin asks.

Ten just smiles.

“Has Renjun been here too?” Jaemin asks. “Are you telling him this?”

Ten’s smile drops. His voice takes on that strange note of emotion again when he speaks, and it echoes oddly over the stones of the street. “He hasn’t been here for more than a month.”

Jaemin remembers.

He remembers holding Renjun's hands in his own, and Renjun saying, "I can't do this."

He remembers pressing his forehead against Renjun's, and saying, "You can."

The three of them stumble out of the bar. Jeno throws an arm around Jaemin while Donghyuck spins in a drunken half-circle in front of them.

"To the next one," Donghyuck declares, though it's unclear where he means. His finger points to the sky.

It's been a while since they took down KT, but they didn’t have the chance to celebrate until now. They've gone through two bars so far, and though they planned to make their way through several more, Jaemin doesn't think it'll be long before they give up on it. He's not entirely sure they'll make it through the next one.

Incidentally they're close to where Ten's shop is. Jaemin thinks about bursting in, and getting Ten to sell him...something, well, whatever he sells. But this isn't a night for secrets and mysteries he can't get to the end of, or for people he wants to but can't forget. Jaemin's having a good time. They're all having a good time. Ten sits somewhere at the intersection of all that he doesn't want to think about tonight, and he doubts Jeno and Donghyuck would appreciate the detour.

They make their way down the street in reasonably good shape. Donghyuck may have flipped someone off, but that isn't too bad for how much he's had. Donghyuck's leading them to a new spot he found, half bar half club.

The walk feels long, though it probably isn't. Jaemin spends most of the time there complaining to Donghyuck about how very far away it is, couldn't he have chosen somewhere closer, Jaemin's feet are tired. Donghyuck flips him off too.

They get there eventually. By the time they get there, Jaemin's between them, with his arms slung around both of their shoulders. They've started to sing a song, and the bouncer views them with grave suspicion.

Jaemin isn't sure how they get allowed in, but he assumes Donghyuck knows someone. Donghyuck always knows someone.

Most of the venue is underground. They have to go down a long flight of stairs, which Jaemin complains about too. They get their own booth. Donghyuck says he'll buy Jaemin a drink for dragging him there, and Jaemin says he'll buy Donghyuck a drink to make up for his complaining, but they both make Jeno go up to the bar to order. Jeno says he'll buy himself a drink with their money for enduring them both. When Jeno gets up to the bar, someone sidles up to him, and before they know it Jeno's caught up in conversation with the stranger. Jaemin and Donghyuck laugh because Jeno seems mildly panicked—he keeps gesturing back at them like it'll help him make an escape. The stranger waves a hand in their direction, Jeno balks, and after some time two drinks are brought to their table. They'll go rescue Jeno eventually if they have to, but for now they'll enjoy the free drinks and watch him squirm.

Donghyuck raises his glass and tips it in Jeno's direction. "To our leader."

Jaemin clinks his glass against Donghyuck's. "The mighty procurer of free drinks."

Jeno manages to extricate himself from the stranger on his own and stomps back to their table.

"I can't believe you let me go through that," he says.

"Someone's a flirt," Donghyuck says.

Jeno goes a light shade of red. "I am not."

Jaemin's about to say something equally teasing—Jeno's just too easy when he's tipsy, it would be a shame not to—when he sees someone moving through the bar. A black jacket over a white shirt. A slim figure.

Jaemin pushes himself up from the table. "I think I saw someone," he says.

Donghyuck snorts. "Okay I was wrong. _Someone's_ a flirt. Go get them, tiger."

Jaemin flashes them a smile and winks, but it's perfunctory. He's distracted, his eyes tracking the path of the jacket. He speeds off after it, slipping around other patrons of the bar, his head suddenly halfway clear. Maybe he's not as drunk as he thought.

The figure weaves through the people, frustratingly, tantalizingly almost within reach but always a few people ahead. He, and Jaemin's sure it's a he, even though a cap hides the hair and Jaemin can't get a good look at the face, gets to a door at the back of the bar. He opens the door and slips out.

Jaemin doesn't hesitate. He slips out the same door, and gets into a dark corridor wide enough for maybe two people. It smells of mildew. He turns both ways, sees the black jacket retreating down one side, and follows.

The figure has his fingers on the knob of another door when Jaemin puts a hand on his shoulder. He jumps and turns around.

It's not him. It's not anyone Jaemin knows. Jaemin's angry that he feels so much disappointment. It coats his mouth with dry, bitter dust. What did he expect? Who did he expect?

The stranger has a thin sallow face, and he sizes up Jaemin with suspicion.

"Sorry, I thought you were someone I knew—"

The stranger throws a fist at Jaemin's face, and Jaemin ducks. It's a wild swing, nothing practiced, but Jaemin barely gets out of the way. Jaemin responds on reflex. He jams his elbow into the stranger's Adam's apple. The stranger collapses.

Jaemin stares at the stranger lying prone on the ground. Maybe the stranger attacked Jaemin because he was drunk and itching for a fight, but Jaemin doesn't think so. Jaemin squats down, runs his fingers over the body, and goes through each of the jacket's pockets, knowing he probably shouldn't but thinking that he deserves something for almost being hit in the face. He finds a wallet and goes through it. There are a couple bills, which he pockets, and some credit cards, which he doesn't. Jaemin sees an ID card and a photo of the stranger with some others, friends presumably from the way they're smiling at the camera together. Some impulse compels him to take the ID card. He leaves the photo. Jaemin puts the stranger's wallet back, and continues to pat him down, half out of habit and half because he's still annoyed at almost getting punched. He feels a bulge at the side, and finds the source, the man's inner jacket pocket. He pulls out a bundle.

Packets of green powder, a bottle of some kind of liquid, and several syringes, all packed together under clear plastic wrap

Adrenaline jolts through Jaemin, waking him up the rest of the way. He steps over the stranger, turns the knob of the door, and goes into the room. Three figures sit huddled around the room. Two sit together, a boy and a girl, and another girl sits apart by herself. The one by herself sits with her knees tucked against her chest, and bites her nails. Another figure stands over her.

They don't look up at his entrance, and don't move from where they are. The two sitting together seem unfocused, their eyes open but glazed over, staring at nothing. The standing figure has a syringe in his hand and doesn't look at Jaemin either. He lifts the girl's arm, swipes something over it—antiseptic maybe—and positions the needle.

"About time you got here," he says, not taking his eyes off the syringe.

He doesn't notice Jaemin get in place behind him until Jaemin wraps an arm around his neck. The man drops the needle. He struggles, but it's brief. Jaemin squeezes against his windpipe until he goes unconscious and lays his body down against the ground.

The girl's fingers chase after the fallen syringe rolling away on the ground. Jaemin reaches down and picks it up.

The hooded eyes go wide. "Give it to me," she screams, the sound clattering against him with unexpected violence, a wild departure from her previous silence. The other two don't react to the sound. Before Jaemin realizes it, she's hurling herself at him. He holds her back with one hand, but her fingers claw at him, scratching, seeking. Her nails draw a line of blood down his arm before someone else pulls her back.

Jeno jerks her arms behind her back. "So this is where you went," Donghyuck says, stepping into the room. For all that they had been drinking, they're surprisingly aware.

The girl keeps trying to throw herself forward. "Give it to me," she says. When Jeno's hands don't budge, she droops in his arms. She pleads, "It's the only way I can be happy anymore. You won't take that away from me, would you?" Tears brim at the side of her eyes. "I can tell you're nice. You wouldn't do that."

When Jaemin doesn't come any closer, the tears disappear. She flails in Jeno's arms and screams again.

Donghyuck knocks her unconscious. It's a little sloppy, so the alcohol's still in his system. "I couldn't listen to it anymore," he says.

At the same time, one of the other two in the room makes a sighing noise. While Jaemin's been distracted by the girl, the two of them have rolled over onto the ground, lying curled around each other in a way that sends a pang through Jaemin's chest. The girl sighs again, her mouth spread in a smile of pure bliss, her eyes open but staring at nothing. She curls tighter around the boy, who has the same smile of bliss. He makes a gurgling noise and blood begins to bubble out of his mouth. The gurgling doesn't stop, and more blood comes out of his mouth. None of them know how to stop it. Donghyuck emergency dials Taeyong.

The boy goes silent. A last circle of red bubbles up through that smile of bliss.

Jaemin feels for a pulse and finds nothing.

The girl hugs the boy closer to her.

Taeyong arrives with half of 127. Jaemin doesn't know how they get into the bar and to the back without arousing suspicion, nor how they get the unconscious ones and the dead one out. The three of them tell Taeyong what happened, from when Jaemin followed someone to the back of the bar to now. Jaemin doesn't say the reason why he followed that person. He's not entirely aware of all the words that come out of his mouth.

He feels numb.

Something about it sticks in his head, disturbs him in a visceral way he can't explain, and it isn't even the death itself. It's how that girl smiled and curled around the boy's body, holding him close, holding him tight, when he was already gone.

"So are we back on the case?" Jeno asks Taeyong, days later when they're summoned to his office to recount what they saw again.

"You're not," he says.

"Why not?" Donghyuck demands. "We have proof now that this is worse than we thought. Someone has to look into this."

"I know," Taeyong says. "But we haven't decided who that will be yet."

"What do you mean you haven't decided? We've been working on this for a while, and we know the most about it. We're the obvious choice. You know we are!"

"Donghyuck, watch your tone." But for the first time that Jaemin's seen, Taeyong appears troubled. It makes him more vulnerable somehow, more like them, and Jaemin isn't sure he wants to see that. Taeyong's supposed to know what to do.

"Do you not trust us? Is that why?" Jeno asks quietly. That's what Jaemin wonders too, though he didn't want to voice it aloud. He never says aloud that Dream has been half a team since Mark and Renjun left. They've pieced themselves together, and they've done it well, but sometimes he wonders is it good enough, will it ever be good enough—

Taeyong sees their crestfallen expressions and grimaces. "No, that's not why. This is a direct order from above."

"From above? Why do they care?" Donghyuck asks.

The question seems to make Taeyong more troubled. It worries Jaemin that Taeyong doesn't manage to hide it behind his stoic chief persona as he usually does. His fingers tap against his desk in an erratic rhythm. But Taeyong only says, "They know what they're doing. It might be a lot bigger than we anticipated, if they're getting involved. They’ll have their reasons."

"Reasons you don't know," Jaemin says before he realizes that’s going too far.

"It's not your place to question what I do or do not know, Jaemin," Taeyong says, expression going thunderous, and dismisses them. Jaemin supposes he's lucky he got out of that unscathed.

Same spot, same time. Renjun's there.

"You always wear the same outfit now," Jaemin says.

"You've come to complain about my fashion sense?" Renjun says, with a wry smile that shouldn't make Jaemin feel anything, but it does.

"Yes. I saw someone in the same outfit, and I followed them." _Because I thought they were you_ , he doesn't say, but he doesn't need to. He doesn't know what drives him to make this admittance, but maybe if he gives in a little he'll be able to generate...something...to hold these fragile moments together, to bind it into real substance, not just smoke and strange words fading into the night.

He doesn't even feel angry at himself for wanting that. He's tired of feeling angry.

"I know," Renjun says.

Again, it's strange. Renjun keeps knowing what he shouldn't. How? Who's his source? "How do you know? Why are you helping us?" Jaemin demands.

Renjun considers him, and bites his lip. He's nervous. "Because I want to."

"What kind of answer is that?"

"Because I want to know and I want to help."

The non-answer is just one more frustration on top of the rest of the day's frustrations, and stacked one on top of the other they start to boil over and out.

"Then you also know we don't have anything to do with this anymore. Taeyong's pulled us out, and I'm not going to risk Dream by going off and doing my own thing. I won't abandon the team for this, the way some people have."

Wounded animal hurt expression. Jaemin could lie to himself and say that's what wants to see, but it isn't. Not anymore.

All of a sudden, Jaemin's tired. He's tired of running in circles, of chasing dragon dust and thinking he's hit jackpot only to hit a dead end. He's tired of coming back to this place again and again, tired of hitting dead ends. "There's nothing else I can do," Jaemin says. "I'm done with this case."

"Then why do you still have that?" Renjun points at Jaemin's pocket.

"Have what?" Jaemin rummages around in his pocket. He pulls out a couple bills and the ID card he filched from the person he followed. He forgot to turn them over to Taeyong.

The old bell tower tolls the end of the hour.

Ding dong.

"I don't have much time," Renjun says.

"How do you know about this?" Jaemin asks. Something's wrong. No one knew about the ID and the bills except for him.

"I want to know and I want to help, while I can," Renjun whispers. Jaemin is sure he shouldn't be able to hear a whisper across the distance between them, but it's as clear as if Renjun were speaking into his ear. He can picture it. Renjun leaning in and cupping his ear with one hand. Smiling as he makes some joke at Mark's expense. Renjun isn't smiling now. He looks sad, and it makes Jaemin want to reach across that distance and make him feel better the way Jaemin used to be so good at.

Ding dong.

Almost as if he's running away, Jaemin speeds down the road, away from Renjun. He's not entirely sure why he leaves so fast, just that by the time he actually thinks about it, he's already moving. He's confused rather than angry this time.

For the first time, he looks back. All he sees is a gray wall. Renjun's gone.

"You went and saw him again? Jaemin, seriously?" Donghyuck says.

"I don't trust him, I'm just seeing what information he has. It could be useful," Jaemin says. He is careful not to sound defensive, but he is.

Jeno sighs. "It's not safe. Don't get mad—I'm not saying you can't take him. It's just that, if, and trust me I don't like the thought of it any more than you do, if he has..." Jeno stops, takes a breath, continues. "If he has turned against us, he could ambush you."

"He won't. If he wanted to, he could have done it before. He's alone and unarmed as far as I can tell."

"Then bring him back here."

"Jeno," Donghyuck says sharply, but Jeno's determined.

"Bring him back here," Jeno repeats. "Then we can get the answers out of him, any way we have to." That's what Jeno says, but Jaemin doesn't think that's what Jeno means. Sometimes Jeno is a mirror of his own heart. Determination half a step from desperation.

  
"Hey kid, I have something for you," Jaemin says.

Jisung turns to him with a glare, his fingers still typing across the keyboard. He pulls an ear bud out of one ear, and doesn't bother to remove the other. "Don't call me a kid."

"I can't help it when you literally are one. It's the facts."

Jisung narrows his eyes at Jaemin, but not for long. He gets distracted when a notification pops up on his screen. He turns back to it, and whatever he sees must annoy him because he scrunches up his lips to the side and types a one-word response. Jaemin finds Jisung's reactions hilarious.

Jisung waves a dismissive hand at Jaemin. Jaemin's mildly offended—Jaemin is still older and wiser than him; he really doesn't have the right to try to shoo Jaemin off like that. "If you're here to mess around, this is really not the time, Jaemin."

"When do I ever mess around?" Jaemin asks. He flashes his best innocent smile, which he's proud to admit is usually foolproof, but it doesn't work because Jisung doesn't turn from his computer.

Jaemin looks over Jisung's shoulder at the computer screen and at Jisung's mobile phone open at its side. "Playing video games when you're supposed to be working? Really, Jisung?"

Jisung just scowls at his screen. One hand flies over a couple keys on his keyboard, while the other clicks his mouse, rapid fire. "You only come here for one of two things. One, you want to bother me. Two, you want to rant about your life, which is also a bother to me and really the same thing. I'm not interested in either."

Jaemin thinks about how Jisung used to be endearing a few years ago when they still didn't know each other well. When had he become like this?

"Lucky for you, I actually do have something for you." Jaemin takes the ID card he's held onto for the past couple days and taps it on the side of Jisung's desk. "Can you look this man up for me?"

Jisung actually tears his eyes off his screen for a couple seconds. Small victories. He takes the card from Jaemin's hand, puts it next to his keyboard, and goes back to his game. Jaemin finds an extra chair, pulls it over, and browses his own phone while he waits for Jisung to finish his game.

He must fall asleep at some point because the next thing he knows Jisung is shaking him awake.

"You drooled, gross."

Even half-awake, Jaemin says, "I don't drool. I'm an angel."

"Gross, did you just call yourself that? Also, angels and drool are not mutually exclusive." Jisung directs Jaemin's attention to his screen, where a profile has been pulled up. "Here's your guy."

Jaemin can't help but smile at that. He notices that Jisung let him sleep until after Jisung finished searching up this guy's info.

"Why'd you ask me to search up someone who's part of SM? You could literally have gone through the official organization chart. This is a waste of my skills..."

Jisung's voice trails off when Jaemin jerks upright. He doesn't feel tired at all anymore. He's swinging to the opposite side of the pendulum, so awake it puts his teeth on edge.

"He's part of SM?"

"Yeah, a researcher at one of the medical companies we own. Kind of new? He joined last July."

"What's he working on?"

Jisung types into his keyboard. Jaemin sees a couple windows pop up on the screen. Permission denied, errors, some gibberish. Jisung's mouth tugs into a small frown but he keeps typing. The windows close one by one, and eventually Jisung stops typing, but he's really frowning now.

"There we go. He's working on some new drug for insomnia. It's a collaboration project with some other company—"

"Venture Medical."

"Yeah, I can read, Jaemin. It's supposed to be the new and improved version of what Venture Medical already has. Better sleep, fewer side effects, less drowsiness in the morning. Nothing that interesting." Jisung is still frowning. "What I don't get is why it was so hard to find that out."

"Thanks for looking it up," Jaemin says.

"You know something about this, don't you? Something you're not telling me," Jisung accuses.

Jaemin thinks about it. He flexes his fingers. Jisung is a child and so Jaemin doesn't want to involve him more than he has to, but leaving Jisung with his skills, nothing to sate his curiosity, and a partial trail of information is dangerous. "It has something to do with dragon dust," Jaemin says. "I don't know what."

"I heard you're not supposed to be looking into that anymore," Jisung says and frowns again. He's going to get wrinkles before Jaemin at this rate. Jaemin feels a twinge of annoyance. He hasn't expected that to make it so far down the grapevine.

"So don't tell anyone," Jaemin says.

"You're going to get into trouble," Jisung hisses.

Jaemin reaches to pinch Jisung's cheek, and Jisung dodges him. "Aw, are you worried about me?"

Jisung huffs. "I am worried," he says, in a rare display of sincerity not masked by teenage nonchalance. "It isn't like you to keep looking into something after Taeyong says not to. What's got you so interested in this?"

"Maybe I just want some answers."

Jisung doesn't look like he likes that answer, but he doesn't push it. "Is that it? Is there anything else you want or can I go back to my game now?" He doesn't even bother to pretend he's working. Children these days.

But now that Jisung's asked, there is something else.

"Can you look up Renjun for me?" Jaemin asks.

Jisung crosses his arms. "I'm not going to spy on him or find where he's living now, if that's what you're asking. I'm not into violating other people's privacy."

"I'm not asking you to." Though, if Jisung had offered, Jaemin would have taken him up on it. "I want to see his SM profile, see if they've changed anything since...he left."

Jisung pulls it up.

The old image hits Jaemin with a fresh shockwave. It's not a great picture, faded and some time after a bad dye job. The hair dye was an attempt to separate Renjun from his old path, but at the time it only increased his regrets about joining the riders. It was a point of contention at the time, something they laughed about later, and something Jaemin wishes would make him laugh now.

Jaemin scans the profile. Height, weight, profession, missions. Those are all the same. Even his self-bio, "I've been interested in forensics since I was 5 and saw CSI, so I feel really lucky to be here. I'm a cat person and a dog person, and my favorite fruits are pears and grapes. Looking forward to working with everyone!" (Donghyuck's voice in the past, "What kind of bio is that?" And Renjun's. "Like yours is any better." "Mine lists hobbies, so, like, people can relate to me.")

Jaemin scans down until he sees one part that has changed. The dates, which used to have a start date during May four years ago and a blank end date. The end date now reads October 5 of this year. A little over a month ago.

"This is wrong," Jaemin says.

"What's wrong?'

"When he left. This should be June 15."

Jisung squints at the end date. "I guess the people in profiling entered it wrong? It happens sometimes. They might have just entered the date they got the update. You know how long it takes to get anything through to them. Or maybe they thought he was coming back."

Jisung claps his hands over his mouth as soon as he says that, eyes darting to Jaemin. What Jisung says doesn't bother him though. They'd all assumed the same thing for a while, and they'd all wanted to. It should comfort Jaemin that even the profiling department might have felt the same way, though Jisung's other guess that the department was behind on paperwork is more likely.

"Can you get this fixed for me?" Jaemin asks. He doesn't know why it bothers him so much that the date is wrong. Maybe because he's been looking around corners, looking behind himself for months, and the profile doesn't acknowledge that.

Jisung scrunches his lips up to the side. It's funny that he doesn't notice he does that when he's bothered. He probably thinks Jaemin still cares too much about where Renjun's gone, and wonders if giving in to this request will mean more requests in the future.

"I'll see what I can do," Jisung says eventually.

When Jaemin gets back to his place, Jeno is crunching into an apple. The timing is perfect, though it was unplanned. Jaemin will make it just in time. He grabs his gear.

"You too?" Jeno says, raising an eyebrow.

Donghyuck's out too, apparently. Jaemin is curious, but he'll ask about it later.

Jaemin speeds out down the road. He races past the lights of cars, accelerates faster than he has to because he wants to feel the wind and the rush. He takes a different path there but has no fear of getting lost.

Jaemin stops further away from the spot the usual, when he hears a voice that isn't Renjun's shouting loud enough that the whole neighborhood can probably hear it. Whoever lives here, anyway. Jaemin hasn't seen anyone around. Jaemin parks his bike, and walks over toward the voice. Somehow he knows where it's coming from.

Donghyuck stands facing the wall. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides.

"Get out here, damn you," he shouts at the wall. "Why do you only show yourself to Jaemin? You coward."

A pigeon shuffles along at the side, unbothered by Donghyuck's noise.

Then Donghyuck's voice cracks. It becomes quieter. "Get out here. Please."

Donghyuck raises a hand, and runs it across the gray wall. Then, quieter still, "I miss you."

Donghyuck stands in front of the wall for five heartbeats more before he gets on his bike and leaves.

Jaemin thinks he should leave too, and is about to turn around when Renjun melts out of the shadows, coming out of a side alley like he's been there the whole time. He beckons at Jaemin, though he shouldn't be able to see Jaemin from that angle, and Jaemin walks up until he's standing at the spot he usually stops his bike at. It's different facing Renjun when he's not sitting on his bike. He feels oddly vulnerable.

"Why'd you hide from Donghyuck?" Jaemin asks. Jaemin doesn’t say, _You’re hurting him._ But maybe, he doesn’t have to.

Renjun flinches. He looks torn, and pained. "He can't see me like this," Renjun says.

That should make Jaemin suspicious. It lends credence to the idea that Renjun is a traitor if he won't show himself to the person most suspicious of him.

"And I can?" Jaemin asks.

"You can."

"Why?"

"Because it’s you," Renjun says. A non-answer as usual. What did Jaemin expect?

His chest grows hot with anger, but his feet stay where they are, like they're held in place by glue. He can't bring himself to cross over the invisible lines that outline this space between them, can't even take one step forward. "You should come back," Jaemin blurts out.

Renjun's eyes flicker to his.

"We're going to get to the bottom of dragon dust. Don't you want to be there when we do?" Jaemin asks, and when he asks, he sees it.

"You do," Jaemin breathes. Lets the words curl up away from him, crossing the distance, hovering pale and fragile in the air.

Renjun stills. Wind blows through his hair. Jaemin can see he wants it. For a second, Renjun looks young, and open, and vulnerable. Desperation mixed with hope mixed with desire. Jaemin almost believes Renjun will walk forward.

Then it's gone. The words curl up and away, a wisp of smoke.

"I can't," Renjun says.

The old bell tower tolls the end of the hour.

Ding dong.

"I don't have much time," Renjun says.

"You can't," Jaemin repeats.

"I can't," Renjun says. "And I don't know if I can meet up many more times." Renjun sounds like he's the one in pain, when he has no right to.

"You don't want to," Jaemin says. Flat, cold, like it doesn't matter.

"I—"

Ding dong.

Jaemin turns and almost runs back to his bike. He flies away, ignoring the tugging in his chest, ignoring that he wants to turn back even if each word Renjun says is a glass shard that’s being forced down his throat. He doesn't look back.

Jaemin wakes up disoriented. His mouth tastes of rust. He doesn't feel the warmth of Donghyuck's body next to his, or hear the sounds of their breathing. He doesn't know whether to be annoyed that they didn't wake him up when they got out of bed, or grateful. They don't usually let him sleep in. The light against his eyelids feels too bright. It could be noon, but he doesn't usually sleep in that long. He doesn't remember falling asleep.

He tries to lift a hand to block out the light, but he can't move his hand. A band of some sort has been tied around his wrists. This isn't his bed, he realizes. It's too hard.

His eyes fly open. White fluorescent lights blaze above him, making spots in his vision.

He feels dull and stupid, like he really has just woken up, though from the dull ache that starts throb at the back of his head he gets the feeling he wasn't sleeping. He's tied to what seems like a hospital bed, raised to a 45 degree angle. He tugs again at his wrists, but the bands hold tight.

The light makes his head hurt worse. He blinks to get rid of the spots in his vision, while he tries to get some idea of how he ended up here. He was walking up to their place after meeting with—no, now’s not the time. He was walking up to their place when pain burst against the back of his head. Before he could register what the pain meant, he was tugged backward, and something pressed to his mouth. A sickly sweet smell in his nostrils, and after that, nothing.

"You're awake," someone says.

Jaemin blinks away the last of the spots, and focuses on the speaker. It's no one he knows. The man is dressed like a scientist, in a white lab coat. "Where am I?" Jaemin rasps. His throat is parched.

"Unimportant. You and your friends have been digging into something you have no business looking into."

Beyond the man, Jaemin notices someone else lying strapped to another bed. A prone form. Jisung.

Panic surges. Jaemin strains against his bonds. "What have you done to him?"

"Relax," the man says. "Nothing, yet. Perhaps we'll be lenient since it was his little search that alerted us in the first place. We have a lot of safeguards set up. I'm surprised he got through them."

The ID. Jaemin shouldn't have gone to Jisung. He's still a kid.

"I would worry about yourself first. Imagine my surprise when we checked the cameras and found it was two children who were looking into this. I almost convinced myself it was harmless until I realized you were part of the team that had been assigned to dragon dust a month ago."

This knowledge is impossible. This man shouldn't have his hooks sunk in so deep that he can check the cameras, or know their assignments.

Unless.

Jaemin's mouth tastes of rust. The taste threatens to choke him. "You're part of SM. SM's making dragon dust."

The man nods.

Jaemin's chest goes hollow.

"Why were we sent after it then? What was the point of that?"

One side of the man's mouth curls downward. "A mistake on my part. We needed to test on human subjects, but I couldn't have the rest of the board knowing. Some of the tests...didn't go as planned, these rumors of a new drug came out, and I couldn’t block the investigation without arousing suspicions. The rest of the board is old-fashioned, you see. They wouldn't have approved of my methods, but once dragon dust was completed, once they saw the vision, they would understand."

"I don't understand." Jaemin feels sick with incomprehension, and with relief that it's not SM that has betrayed him, not yet. He clings to that thought.

"Think, rider. Imagine a drug that lets us control even the most dangerous criminals without harm to us or them. We offer them sweet dreams, they sleep, and when they wake they're ready to do exactly as we say as long as we provide them dragon dust. Imagine a world without crime."

"It does harm them," Jaemin says. Blood bubbles past a smile somewhere in the back room of a bar.

"Our earlier formulations had some faults. We've fixed them."

"You’re mad," Jaemin says. "And when you get rid of me, my team members will know something's wrong. Taeyong will know something's wrong."

The man smiles indulgently. "I'm not going to get rid of you."

Silver shines off the edge of a syringe. Jaemin starts to thrash against his bonds. "Get that away from me.”

"Hold him down," the man says, and two white robed assistants come in from the door. They each hold one side of Jaemin as the man injects green liquid into Jaemin's arm. Jaemin sees Jisung's prone form from the side of his eye. He prays Jisung doesn't wake up anytime soon.

"Sweet dreams," the man says.

Jaemin goes under.

Sunlight streams in through the window on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Sunlight plays off Renjun's hair. He sits by the window, a note pad in his hand.

"You're here," Jaemin says.

Renjun lifts his head. When he sees Jaemin, he smiles crookedly. "Where else would I be?"

"You dyed your hair," Jaemin says. It's a dark brown, almost black.

Renjun frowns at him. "Yeah, like a week ago. Are you feeling okay?"

Jaemin feels more than okay. He feels light, warm. He could walk on air. "Yeah, just seeing your face makes me feel great."

Renjun puts down the notepad and walks over to him, still frowning. He puts a hand on Jaemin's forehead. It's dry and cool. It's solid, the press of his palm light just the way Jaemin remembers. Remembers? Well, it's been a long time since Renjun touched him skin on skin—he's not much into physical contact.

It's worry that's making Renjun touch him now. "You don't feel like you have a fever," he says. Jaemin wants to take Renjun's hands in his and tell him not to worry. Everything's alright now, and everything will be alright.

"Do I need to have a fever to give you a compliment?" Jaemin asks.

Renjun rolls his eyes, but he can't help smiling. "You're insufferable, oh mighty leader of ours."

"Wait, I'm the leader? What happened to Mark?"

Renjun really looks worried now. "Jaemin, Mark got promoted to 127 last week. Are you sure you didn't hit your head somewhere? You can't have forgotten that."

Jaemin sinks down into a chair. Okay, so maybe not everything's alright. He's remembers now, he's been running away from this new weight on his shoulders. "I'm the leader," he mumbles. He’s the youngest and most reckless. They're supposed to follow him? "Where's Donghyuck and Jeno?"

"They're out looking for you. I thought you'd come back though. I told them you wouldn't run."

He had been running though, racing his bike through the city. That had been reckless too. He'd ridden far past the speed limit in an area with a lot of cops, wanting them to chase him so he could outpace their gaudy slow bikes and cars, and so the thrum of adrenaline would override the anxiety in his blood.

It hadn't really worked. They couldn't give him much of a chase.

"I wanted to run."

"We all do, sometimes," Renjun says. He takes Jaemin's hand in his and squeezes it. He doesn't usually initiate affection, so it's a little awkward, but Jaemin holds onto his hand when Renjun tries to pull away. Jaemin remembers that Renjun wanted to run, back in those days he first joined. He wonders sometimes if Renjun still wants to run. He doesn't know why he's so fixated on this idea of Renjun running away from them when Renjun's been perfectly content and he's the one that's struggling not to run from his new responsibilities. Sometimes in his dreams Renjun isn't there, and it feels so real it's like an inevitability rather than a sliver of a half-formed nightmare. This stress is getting to him.

"You're not going to leave, are you?" Jaemin asks.

"No? You really are acting weird today."

Jaemin turns Renjun's hand over in his and traces the line of his palm. Renjun's the oldest of them. He should've been the new leader, not Jaemin. Jaemin wonders if he holds a grudge. "I can't do this," Jaemin says.

Renjun leans down and presses his forehead against Jaemin's. "You can," he says.

Then Renjun cups Jaemin's face in his palms, leans over further, and presses a kiss on Jaemin's forehead. Jaemin stares at him with wonder. Renjun has never—

Never?

Jaemin remembers a different kiss, a different day.

Something is wrong. With this conversation, with this place. Jaemin has to go.

Jaemin stands up, and pushes Renjun back. Renjun steps back, stricken. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"No, it's not you, it's..."

Renjun has kissed him on the forehead before. Only once, and not like this. It'd been early morning or late night, when it was still cold and dark outside. Jaemin had been less than half awake, so he thought he might have dreamt it. The brush of Renjun's breath, the softness of his lips. A touch, then gone, Renjun slipping out of bed and away, and Jaemin slipping back to sleep.

They found the note on the refrigerator the same morning.

Jaemin stares at Renjun. Renjun stands there with light shining against his hair. He looks sad.

"This isn't real, is it?" Jaemin says. Pieces of the background start to fall away into blackness.

No answer. Cracks run up Renjun's face, and pieces of him begin to fall away like the background. Jaemin runs to catch them, and they stab at his hands. It doesn’t hurt. Then it's his hands that are splitting apart. None of it hurts. And Renjun's cracking before him. And he's cracking. And—

And he opens his eyes.

Makes the same mistake. The fluorescent lights almost blind him. He blinks the spots from his eyes, and sees that the man and his assistants are still there, but they have their backs turned to him. They've untied him. He wiggles his fingers and toes experimentally. His body feels fine.

"He should be awake in two hours," one of the assistants says.

"That long?" the man asks. "How much did you put in this dose?"

"The new formulation keeps them asleep longer, but it is less dangerous..."

Jaemin swings himself off the bed. The three of them turn at the rustle of sheets, and the man gets Jaemin's fist in his face. Jaemin threw his whole weight behind the one punch, and hears a satisfying crunch. The man screams. He falls back, the back of his head knocking against his desk before one of his assistants grabs him.

"Security," one of the assistants shouts.

The door slides open and men stream into the room. Jaemin curses. There's too many for Jaemin to take alone, and there's still Jisung lying on the other bed. He'll at least take down these assistants that aided in trying to defile his memories.

He turns to them, and they must see murder in his eyes because they scramble back toward the security, trying to drag the man with them. Even so, one assistant cries, "Don't shoot him, he's a test subject."

Jaemin kicks that assistant in the chest. The security start to pull out weapons, saying, "Hands up", and he doesn't want to listen to them but he's not stupid. He starts to raise his hands.

He hears other noises, other shouts. Some of the security turn around, and then they're the ones dropping their weapons. They drop like dominos as Jeno and Donghyuck crash into the room, followed by the rest of 127 and Taeyong himself. Within minutes they've disarmed and disabled all the security, and have the man and his two assistants, as well as a whole team of white robed people from outside the room, in handcuffs.

"When you didn't come back last night, we tracked your phone," Donghyuck says. That would've required security clearance from Taeyong. Jaemin's surprised but grateful to see him and 127 here.

"I know you wouldn't have disappeared overnight," Taeyong says. "And when Jeno told me you were still looking into dragon dust all this time against my orders—" Jaemin raises his head and holds Taeyong's gaze. He's not sorry about it, no matter how angry Taeyong is with him. Taeyong is angry, but Jaemin's surprised to see that there's regret there too. "—we decided to come find you."

Taeyong looks down at the man and those with him with disgust. "I was wrong this time. We're going to lock these fuckers up, and see what we can get from interrogation. Good work, Dream." Jaemin knows that's as much of an apology as Taeyong can offer, and really, it's more than enough.

"You can't lock me up," the man says. " Do you know who I am? I’m on the board. I can get rid of NCT.“

At moments like these, Jaemin's reminded that Taeyong is their chief. Jaemin shivers at the cold blank rage that fills Taeyong's face. He almost feels sorry for the man when Taeyong turns to him. "You," Taeyong says pleasantly, "are lucky to be alive. Though soon you may disagree with me.”

Jaemin is taking his helmet off the rack when someone knocks on the door, an urgent staccato even though they have a doorbell. Jeno opens the door, and Jisung bursts in, frantic and wild-eyed.

It's an odd expression on Jisung after years of teenage indifference, and Jaemin is tempted to take a photo to commemorate.

"Where's Donghyuck? Where's Jaemin?" Jisung asks. He sees them in the living room. Jaemin was about to go. Jisung is breathing heavily, like he ran there. "We have to talk." He tries to catch his breath. "Jaemin, you told me to get it fixed, but October 5 isn't wrong."

The timing is too perfect. Jaemin was about to go. Jaemin has to go.

"Sorry, Jisung, I've got to go," Jaemin says.

"Wait, you have to listen to me—"

"We'll talk when I get back," he says. He leaves with Jisung making frantic gestures before throwing his hands up and talking to Donghyuck and Jeno.

He revs the engine and speeds into the night, following the invisible thread that always guides him back to the same place.

Renjun's waiting. He somehow knew Renjun would be there. Black jacket over white tee. Black pants. Faded blonde and purple tips, piercing right above his cheekbone.

Jaemin takes off his helmet. It's a message. He's not planning to leave so fast this time.

"It's over," Jaemin says.

"Congrats," Renjun says, but he sounds a little sad. "So, I guess this is the last time we can meet."

"You should come back," Jaemin says. He's spent an hour thinking of the next words to say. He was going to go full persuasive politician style, glib but with enough honesty that Renjun knows he means every word. But all the pretty words fall from his mind when Renjun closes his eyes, leans back against the wall, and lets out a long exhale through his nose. He looks like he's been kicked in the chest, again, and he has no reason to look that way unless he doesn't want to come back, and if he doesn't want to come back whatever Jaemin says, no matter how pretty he makes it sound, is worthless.

So Jaemin says what he's really thinking. No pretty words. No charming smile that he used to use on Renjun the most because it flustered him in a way it didn't the others. "I miss you."

Renjun opens his eyes again. Jaemin's good at reading him, but he's not sure what he sees now. There's longing enough to hurt, and that should be enough, but it's not enough. Renjun lets out a soft exhale. "I miss you too."

Jaemin hears the sound of engines moments before Donghyuck and Jeno pull up next to him.

"Jaemin, we should go home," Donghyuck says with a terrible gentleness. With the same brand of terrible gentleness, Jeno says, "You have to let him go, Jaemin.”

Jaemin knows.

Donghyuck and Jeno look straight through Renjun at the gray wall behind him and the ever persistent lone pigeon. Dumb bird.

For the first time, Renjun walks forward, out from under the shadow of the wall and into the light of the street lamp. He walks up until he stands right in front of them, close enough to touch.

"What happened?" Jaemin asks.

"Jisung's still getting those details," Jeno says, but he's not who Jaemin's asking.

"Car came out of nowhere. I was on my bike, and probably not paying enough attention. It's pretty anticlimactic," Renjun says. In the light, Renjun isn't entirely solid. If Jaemin squints, he can make out the outlines of the wall through him.

Renjun walks between the bikes. He runs his hands over Jeno's face, then Donghyuck's, as if he can memorize their features. Jeno sneezes, and Donghyuck doesn't react.

The old bell tower tolls the end of the hour.

Ding dong.

"I don't have much time," Renjun says, for once without that infuriating calm, even tone. He's afraid, Jaemin realizes.

Renjun cups Jaemin's face in his hands. He tries to brush away Jaemin's bangs, and frowns when his fingers pass through them. He gives up on moving them.

“I’m happy I could see you again,” he says.

Renjun presses his lips against Jaemin's forehead. His lips are soft. Jaemin isn't sure he really feels it or if he's feeling the remnants of a memory.

Ding dong.

Renjun steps back into the shadows. He throws up a peace sign, and tries to grin.

Jaemin doesn't want to go, but it's like his body moves on its own. Before he can say another word, the three of them are heading off down the alleyway.

When he turns back, there’s nothing but a gray wall.

**Author's Note:**

> das it.
> 
> did you see the end coming? i might have been too obvious, welp.
> 
> i blame this entirely on two things - ridin, and some recollection of renjun saying he believes in ghosts and jaemin saying he doesn't


End file.
